One Year And A Dozen Words
by E.Wills
Summary: A collection of related Hiccstrid one-shots spanning a year in their relationship, pre-HTTYD2. Each one-shot takes place during a different month (hence the year) and each one-shot will focus on a different one word theme. I'm not sure what the final rating will be. It depends on how vague I want to be about certain details, I guess. T, for now. I hope you enjoy! [Hiccstrid].
1. Hands

**Author's Note**: Okay, so…I think I'm done with the very long, emotionally draining stories for a while. They are _exhausting_, y'all—as much as I enjoy writing them. I probably won't write anything like that again for HTTYD until after the sequel gives me more material to draw inspiration from. That being said, I don't plan on taking a hiatus from writing altogether or anything like that. I enjoy it too much. Instead, I'll probably just dabble in short little pieces and one-shots—as I plan to do with this work.

This fic is actually collection of loosely related one-shots, centered around my favorite HTTYD pairing—and probably one of my favorite fictional relationships of all time. These little one-shots will range from fluffy to smutty depending on my mood while I'm writing. Hiccup and Astrid are 18 in this. In my mind, all my stories take place before the second movie because, I mean, _obviously_…

**Disclaimer**: I do not own HTTYD or anything officially relating to it. I'm not that lucky.

*****P.S.-** Some of you have been calling for me to write more, especially following my last fic. I'm flattered you enjoy my writing that much, but I fear I may have left some of you feeling unsatisfied with the brevity of my previous work. I hope this collection of ficlets satisfy your Hiccstrid itch. Cheers!

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"Does it bother you?" Astrid asked, as Hiccup sharpened her favorite ax for her.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But Snotlout is _always_ saying things like that. I try not to pay him too much attention anymore."

She had not meant to burden Hiccup with the task of sharpening her trademark weapon for the umpteenth time, but all blades inevitably dulled. Her ax did not get much experience killing dragons since the Great Peace, but it was absolutely gifted in chopping firewood, and that autumn seemed to require a lot of it. She also kept up with her target practice. More than a few unfortunate tree trunks had been on the receiving end of her ax, which was how she found herself at the smithy again. In all honesty, she probably did not need it sharpened that much, but she had seen firsthand what happened to a weapon that was not well kept, when Hiccup had taught her ex-fiancé a very painful lesson in blade maintenance.

Gobber had taken the day off, claiming to have fallen victim to some kind of acute stomach illness. Astrid was skeptical of the diagnosis, having seen him drinking enough mead the night before to suspect he was feeling under the weather for another reason. That left Hiccup in charge of the smithy for the day, and Astrid decided to keep him company, knowing full well he hated being held captive there, if he was not working on a project of his own. He had, up until very recently, been required to spend almost every waking minute on his training as heir to the chiefdom. He was finally able to enjoy some freedom again, thanks to his father's uncharacteristic bout of generosity, and Astrid imagined that weaponsmithing was not how he wanted to be spending his time.

She had apologized for bringing her ax by the shop. She suggested she should get it sharpened later, while Gobber was there. Hiccup had simply insisted she let him do it, as long as she had bothered to make the trip. She had reluctantly handed her weapon over to him, feeling a little guilty, but he remained in a good mood as long as she stood there, talking to him.

"Do you want me to punch Snotlout out for you?" Astrid asked him, grinning playfully.

Hiccup did not take his eyes off his work, but she saw him smile as he continued to grind the ax against the sharpening stone.

"I'm not going to agree to that…but if you did, I wouldn't be sad about it," he replied.

"I just think you've let him run his mouth for too long. He doesn't know when he's crossed the line," she said, leaning back against the wall.

"Probably because I've never really bothered to draw one."

"Your words, not mine."

Hiccup sighed heavily and held her ax up to inspect it properly. She watched him with mild fascination as he turned the weapon over in his hands, scrutinizing every inch of it like the artist he was. His fingertips smoothly glided over the length of the handle as his green eyes intently searched the iron head for imperfections. Astrid was confident he would not find any, if he was the one who had been working on it. He had the uncanny ability to make better almost anything that he touched. Gobber had probably thought himself cursed when Hiccup had first become his apprentice. Under his mentorship however, Hiccup had gained unparalleled skill, and the gods had blessed the young Viking with an undeniable talent. With just his own two hands, he had ability to forge and craft the most astounding inventions that Astrid would have never thought possible before. She felt a small wave of adoration for him whenever she touched something his hands had made.

As said hands gently wandered over the contours of her ax, Astrid could not help but be envious of her favorite weapon.

"How is that?" he asked, passing the ax back to her.

Astrid studied the freshly sharpened weapon for a moment, nimbly tossing it from one hand to the other, appreciating the lighter weight from the last time he had modified it for her. Then she spun around and buried the ax firmly in the window frame behind her, the weapon slicing through the thick wood as easily as parchment. She was more than satisfied with it.

"It's perfect!" she said brightly, hands on her hips; the ax was still firmly lodged in the window.

"If you're going to destroy my workplace, I might actually have to start charging you for these visits," he told her flatly, pulling off his leather blacksmithing apron.

"No, you won't," she replied, with a smug grin.

Hiccup just smirked as he hung his work apron from a nearby peg on the wall.

"So, back to the issue at hand—Snotlout," Astrid said, folding her arms across her chest.

Hiccup groaned and leaned against a workbench.

"_Why_ are we still talking about—?"

"Because you're being evasive," she said pointedly.

They had come a long way in the few short months they had been dating. The majority of that time, their relationship had remained vague and open-ended, much as it had been when they were younger. The main difference was, at their current age, the relationship was a far less innocent affair. They had struggled through the emotionally muddy waters of new love and had only ended up stronger for it. Their biggest remaining issue was, as it always had been, Hiccup's continuing tendency to safeguard his thoughts and feelings, even from her. He had gotten a lot better since the messy ordeal of Winter Nights only a few weeks prior, but it still took the occasional badgering from Astrid for him to be forthcoming.

Hiccup sighed heavily and glanced at the ground for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"Does it bother me when he implies that, without dragons, I would be completely inept as chief? Yes, it does. Probably even more so when you stop to consider he isn't the only one that feels that way," he confessed.

"But Hiccup, you can't assume that what an idiot like Snotlout says is true for anyone else," Astrid said, frowning.

He glanced up at her and replied, "I may give people the benefit of the doubt, more often than they deserve…but I'm not completely naïve, Astrid. It took training dragons to earn any kind of respect around here. I'd imagine, if I had never found Toothless, I'd still be the village embarrassment."

"There's so much more to you than dragons, though!" Astrid argued, taking his hands in hers and giving them an affectionate squeeze.

"Such as…?"

"This!" she exclaimed glancing around at the rest of the smithy.

"This?" Hiccup replied skeptically, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"More specifically, what you create here," she explained. "There's not another soul on Berk who can do what you do!"

"Gobber—"

"He makes weapons and other _basic_ equipment," Astrid said dismissively. "Toothless' tail, your Gronckle Iron shield…your new prosthetic—Hiccup, those inventions are nothing short of sheer genius!"

He grinned sheepishly at her.

"Go on…," he teased, and Astrid laughed softly.

She glanced down and admired his hands, turning them over in her own. She lightly massaged her thumbs over his knuckles, noticing some of the small faded scars he had collected from years of metalworking. His hands were a little calloused, but Astrid knew well that they could be warm and gentle when they needed to be. She knew _very_ well that his hands were tools of both ingenuity and mind-blowing pleasure. It was amazing how a touch from him could calm her or practically set her skin ablaze, depending on his intention. She gently ghosted her fingertips along the palms of his hands before lacing their fingers together. Even such minor skin-to-skin contact made her heart skip a beat.

Hiccup stared back at her curiously, watching as she studied his hands, mesmerized. There was a look in his eyes that Astrid knew well and she felt herself being drawn to him, leaning in so their lips were only inches apart—but then her eyes flickered to the workbench behind him, and she noticed two new sketches she had never seen before. She was instantly intrigued.

"No way!" she cried, snatching them up and skimming over his notes. "You're going to modify Toothless' tailfin again? So he can…_solo glide_?"

"Really? You want to talk about that right _now?_" Hiccup replied, exasperatedly.

Astrid tilted her head to the side as she looked over the other design.

"Is that some sort of…flying suit? Wow! How does_ that_ work?"

"Astrid, focus," Hiccup said, cupping her face in his warm hands.

She reveled in the sensation of his fingertips on her bare skin. She gazed up at him and smiled sheepishly as she set his drawings aside.

"I'm sorry," she stated as she leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. "I guess I'm easily amazed at what just two hands can build."

He kissed her lips gently and whispered, "That's not _all_ I can do with my hands…"

Astrid suddenly felt weak in the knees as he guided her towards the small side room that served as his own personal workshop. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, to make sure no one else was coming, but he quickly shut the door behind them before she had a chance to protest—not that she would ever dream of doing such a thing. Her heart hammered in excitement as his hands found her hips, backing her against the wall with a soft _thud_. They were kissing, hard and insistent, and Hiccup's hands eagerly began to roam over her body, and she could not help but arch into him. She wanted more contact, and more friction. In such private moments together, there was something just so damn irresistible about those hands.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, Gobber had made a "miraculous" recovery from his illness and had returned to the smithy to relieve Hiccup of his blacksmithing responsibilities. The two of them should have been given some kind of award for how well they were able to keep it together, and how casual they had acted when Gobber asked them if anything interesting had happened in his absence. They had sworn up and down that nothing noteworthy had occurred at the smithy that day, and the older man seemed none the wiser.

They had immediately departed the shop for the academy, where Fishlegs was instructing a small group of very young Vikings on training their Deadly Nadder hatchlings of only a few weeks. Hiccup had recently given him the authority over all future classes, and so their presence was not required, but Astrid liked to observe all lessons related to Nadders, in case Fishlegs needed her expertise on the subject. She had to admit that he was doing quite well on his own, though. He was just so enthusiastic when it came to all things dragon, that his energy filtered down to his students, stirring up their excitement as well.

"You know, that was a very amazing thing you did for Fishlegs," Astrid told Hiccup as they watched the kids try to bond with their new dragons.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, feigning ignorance.

"You gave him control of all the classes. You can tell how thrilled he is to teach. It was a very selfless decision on your part," she replied.

"I just couldn't handle the responsibility of lesson planning, in addition to everything else. I thought he might want the job," Hiccup explained, with a shrug.

"Yes, because you're just so _busy_ right now," she teased, giving him a playful nudge.

He gave her a faint smile before walking forward to assist a young girl who was displaying a lot of hesitancy around a very rambunctious baby Nadder. He knelt down and gently placed his on the hatchling's snout, calming the dragon almost instantly.

"Don't be scared. Here," he said softly, taking the girl's hand in his and laying it on the small dragon in a similar manner. "Like this."

The girl beamed at him as the baby Nadder nuzzled into her hand.

"Got it?" he asked her.

She nodded vigorously and reached out with both arms to embrace her new, scaly companion. Astrid felt a rush of affection for Hiccup as she watched him help the young girl master the basics of dragon training.

She knew he was worth way more than what his connection with dragons provided their tribe, even if there were a few mutton heads that refused to see it. Still, it was impressive to watch his innate ability to understand what dragons were thinking. He made it look so effortless, and so natural. She admired him for it.

She wish she could have been there to see the moment when Hiccup had first bonded with Toothless. He had described it to her before in enough detail, and she supposed she should not have been surprised it had all started with one simple touch. After all, his hands could craft elegant weapons, and his hands could build complex inventions. How fitting it was then, that his hands had been the first to tame a dragon. His hands had both taken away and subsequently restored, to Toothless, the precious gift of flight. He improved anything he put his hands on, including her. Was she not a better person now that he was the very anchor of her entire being? She liked to think so, but admitting that would be very un-Viking.

Hiccup straightened up and strode back over to her, looking satisfied at the progress his young pupil had made. As leaned back against the stone wall, Astrid gently reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. He turned to her and quirked an eyebrow at the tender gesture.

Astrid just smiled at him fondly, trying to figure out the most appropriate words to convey how she felt, but sentimental words had never come easy to her.

Eventually, she gave up and simply settled for:

"You know, Hiccup…you really do have the most_ incredible_ hands."

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**Author's Note: **Each "chapter" will have a one word theme that it revolves around. I wonder if I made this one obvious enough. Haha, just kidding! I have a predetermined list of words that I brainstormed, but my goal is a dozen words, and I'm a few short. So, I am open to suggestions. That being said, I will not guarantee to use any of the words people yell at me in reviews or PMs or whatever—but if I find a suggested word to be particular inspiring, I will use it and give due credit to the suggestee.

No. I know that's not a real word. I just made it up. Deal with it.


	2. Scars

**Author's Note: **Y'all have been so kind with your reviews! Nothing like a little ego stroking to make my day brighter. It really does mean a lot, and I do read all the reviews. I try to get around to sending out PMs to thank everyone individually, but right now, I just want to thank everyone publicly because things have been, and will continue to be, crazy for me this week. So, thank you all for the continuing support!

On another note, my sexy editor asked me why I don't also include the months in each chapter, if these one-shots span a year. I figured it was a good question that deserved to be answered, and I thought he must not be the only one who was wondering that. So, my answer is this:

While these one-shots span a year, it's not necessarily about the specific point in time that they each occur, if that makes sense. The general time of year just helps give additional framing to the scenes and it shows time progression as Hiccup and Astrid continue to evolve their relationship. Also, Vikings did not use the same Gregorian calendar that we use, so it would be inaccurate to have Hiccup and Astrid refer to months as we know them. In fact, in my research, I discovered that Vikings only considered two seasons to exist: winter and summer. I already made an error in my last fic by having the characters refer to autumn as a thing, because apparently they would not have acknowledged it as a separate season. _That being said_, I confess to taking a lot of liberties with medieval Viking culture since I'm writing fan fiction based on a cartoon work of fiction that is so loosely based on actual Vikings. Does…anybody actually care? Is anybody actually offended?...No? Okay, good. In case you just _had_ to know, though…_Winter Nights_ took place in mid October, by our calendar, which dates the first chapter of this fic in very late October. This chapter, being the next one in the series, occurs sometime in November, and you can go from there if you _must_.

I hope you enjoyed that long-winded answer. You're welcome.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own HTTYD.

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Astrid had been surprised at how little her parents had fussed when she informed them she was going on an overnight patrol with Hiccup. Just the two of them. _Alone_.

She had assumed her parents would have been outraged at the very idea, remarking on the impropriety of the whole thing, but they both had been rather unperturbed at her announcement. She figured it probably had a lot to do with the fact that she and Hiccup were both young adults now, and as long as the two of them remained discreet, her parents could continue to claim ignorance to the nature of their entire relationship. Additionally, dragons had provided the teens of Berk much more freedom and independence to come and go as they pleased in recent years. Hiccup and Astrid, in particular, had usually been left to their own devices growing up. As long as they stayed out of trouble, their parents did not seem to care _what_ they did, and it suited both parties just fine.

Astrid had quickly packed a few essentials before setting out on Stormfly to meet up with Hiccup and Toothless.

Ever since the academy had started, night missions and night patrols had been just a routine part of the job for their group of friends. There was never any set schedule, since the whole purpose of patrols was to search the archipelago for marauders and pirates, and predictability was the last thing they wanted. As the senior academy members, they all rotated the responsibility between themselves, with one night being Hiccup's turn to patrol, then Fishlegs', then the Twins', and so on. Astrid had volunteered to accompany Hiccup on his night that week, even though it was more common to patrol alone, and he had been very receptive to the idea.

Between the two of them, they got the job done much quicker, which had left time for _other_ things. Astrid had suggested they set up camp for a couple hours to give their dragons a break before round two. Hiccup had agreed and they chose a small island in the northern sea; it would not have taken even five minutes to walk from one end of the tiny land mass to the other. The archipelago was full of lesser islands, which were perfect for two young Vikings looking to share some alone time.

"You didn't have to come with me," he told her, "but I'm very glad you did."

The two of them were sitting on the ground in front of a small campfire, wrapped up together in a thick wool blanket her mother had knitted for her a couple of years ago. Astrid had packed it for such an occasion. Hiccup had his arms around her while she sat between his legs, with her back pressed against his chest. Their dragons were lying nearby, huddled together on a patch of scorched earth, courtesy of Toothless.

"I just can't seem to leave you alone recently. It can't be good for my health," Astrid teased.

"I fail to see how that's a problem," Hiccup replied.

Astrid smiled and tilted her head back, and she was rewarded with a soft, loving kiss; it was brief, but satisfying. As she pulled back a little, the two of them gazed at each other, illuminated by the soft orange glow of the crackling fire. A question came to her mind as she looked over his handsome features, and she turned around to face him directly, sitting on her knees.

"How did you get that scar?" she asked, tracing her fingertips over a faintly raised, thin line on Hiccup's chin.

"What, this?" he mused. "I've had it for _years_."

"Right. But I know how you got this one," she said, brushing his bangs aside to reveal another scar that was hidden there, across his forehead. "And I know how you got this one," she stated, poking him in his left side, making him squirm with a soft laugh—he was ticklish. "…And no one can forget how you got this one," she added, almost sadly, as she laid her hand on his right shoulder, gazing up at him.

Hiccup gently placed his hand on top of hers in a comforting gesture. She knew that _he_ knew she still felt responsible for all of his suffering, even though it had all resulted from _his_ plan and_ his _choice. She had never come out and confessed her guilty feelings directly, but Hiccup was perceptive. A look and a simple touch was all it took for him to communicate he understood what was going on inside her head.

"I promise you, the story behind_ this_ scar is far less interesting," he said, pointing at his chin.

"Tell me anyway," Astrid demanded, playfully tugging at one of his braids.

"It's actually kind of embarrassing…"

Astrid just continued to stare at him expectantly until he gave in with a defeated sigh.

"I was probably about nine, but I can't remember, exactly. Anyway, Snotlout had challenged me to a race to the top of the Great Hall steps. We had just had a freezing rain the night before, so the stone was very slick, and I'm sure you can see where this is going…"

"You face-planted?"

"Right into the edge of one of the steps, yes. It sliced my chin open. Snotlout laughed about it for _days_—until I gave him something else to tease me about, I'm sure," he told her flatly.

Astrid just stared back at him, eyes full of pity for younger Hiccup. At the time, she had probably been too busy trying to pretend he did not exist to notice he had an injury or feel any kind of sympathy for him. It was easier to ignore him in those days, because she had never wanted to join in the relentless bullying, but she had also felt he so often brought it on himself. If she could go back in time, she would give herself a stern talking to. There was no one to stand up for him in those days. Well, she felt she was making up for it now.

"Don't look at me like that," he told her, frowning. "That was so long ago, and I probably deserved it for letting Snotlout goad me into such a stupid race."

"Why did you agree to it in the first place?" she asked curiously. Hiccup was far too intelligent to let Snotlout get the better of him like that. He usually did not get swept up in such pointless competition unless the prize for winning was somehow—Oh! _Oh_.

He did not quite meet her eyes when he answered, "I don't remember…"

That more or less confirmed her suspicion. Of course, she had to have been the reason behind it, in some form or another. Hiccup and Snotlout had been rivals almost since birth, mainly due to Snotlout's jealousy over Hiccup's claim to the chiefdom, which he so desperately coveted. Hiccup, for the most part, tried to be tolerant of his cousin, but nothing had ever put them at odds quite like their feelings for Astrid. She did not think it was fair that she was the reason behind yet another injury of his, even if youthful indiscretion was really to blame.

"You're such an idiot," Astrid said, sighing heavily.

"It definitely was not one of my better moments," Hiccup replied, grinning sheepishly.

She did not think it was so amusing. Did he not understand the uncomfortable position it put her in, to know that she had been the cause of so much of his pain? She could not imagine how anyone would be comfortable with that kind of knowledge hanging over them.

Hiccup's smile faltered and he reached up to gently caress her cheek.

"What about _your _scars?" he asked her softly.

Astrid's brow furrowed in confusion and she inquired, "What are you talking about?"

She did not really have any obvious marks or scars to speak of. Unlike Hiccup, she had not been particularly accident prone in her youth.

"Normally, I can't see them, but they are all over your face right now," he replied, gazing at her intently.

She felt exposed in that moment, in the way only Hiccup could make her feel vulnerable. He continued to stare patiently at her, waiting for her to either answer his question or dismiss it. Astrid felt as though he could see straight into her soul. If she could only read him half as well as he could read her, they would never have any problems communicating.

"I…I suppose I feel a little guilty sometimes," she said with a shrug, trying to downplay her feelings.

"Guilty…about my injuries?" he asked.

She gave a small nod.

"Astrid, listen—"

She cut him off by pressing a finger firmly against his lips. She already knew what he was going to say. He was going to launch into a whole speech about how it was not her fault and how she should not be so hard on herself, blah blah blah. She was not interested. They would have much better communication if Hiccup would also talk about his own feelings as much as he liked to ramble on about hers.

"You can't tell me I had nothing to do with it, when we both know I had _everything_ to do with it," she stated. "It's hard not to feel guilty when the person I love keeps getting hurt in my name."

"What happened between Snotlout and me as children was just plain stupid, but scars like this one…" he nodded his head towards his right shoulder, "I'm _proud_ of them, Astrid. You should be, too."

"Proud?" she asked, laughing a little at the thought—it was ridiculous. "I should be proud that you've gotten so beat up for my sake?"

It went against everything she believed in to accept the role of the damsel. She wished she had been able to do more—to fight her own battles.

"What I did was for both of our sakes," he corrected. "It wasn't just your fight, Astrid. It was_ our_ fight."

"And yet you're the one who went into the arena, and you're the only one of us that got hurt," she replied, with a frown.

"Am I?" he asked pointedly. "It looks like you're still bleeding to me."

Astrid was taken aback. She was not sure how to respond to that, or if she was even supposed to. Damn Hiccup and his cleverness. With just simple words, he had this ability to make her feel like she had ran headlong into a wall.

"I think when that sword stabbed my shoulder, it also stabbed yours. I could see it in your eyes whenever you changed my bandages. You were in pain…because I was. So how can you say you feel guilty that I was suffering alone for your sake? You've suffered for mine, too. We've hurt for each other, Astrid, so don't make it sound so one-sided," Hiccup explained. "Be proud of what we went through together. I am."

Astrid just stared at him for a moment, amazed how he had reduced her insides to a tingly mass of sentimental mush—but he was right. _Of course_, he was right. She was so hopelessly in love with him, and so she suffered whenever Hiccup suffered. He may have sustained injuries in her name, but she endured a good deal of heartache in his. They were even in that regard, though she had never before cared to look at things in that way. Then again, Hiccup often brought a unique perspective to most problems—yet another way in which he was irrefutably brilliant.

She smiled affectionately at him and he returned it, hands wandering down her waist to her hips. Astrid leaned forward and pressed their lips together, running her fingers through his shaggy auburn hair as he pulled her body closer to him. As their kiss deepened from mutual desire, Astrid pulled the blanket tightly around them, shielding them from everything outside their cozy little cocoon. One of her hands came to rest on his shoulder, and when she thought about the wound that had been there, her heart did not feel quite so heavy.

"Don't feel guilty anymore, Astrid. Neither one of us needs to hurt alone," Hiccup whispered against her lips. "After all, our scars are the same."

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**Author's Note:** Forgive me for any typos or whatever, y'all. I have been feeling like crap in addition to being so busy this week. I've been run over by the dazed and fatigued truck, which then backed up over me a couple of times for good measure. I've fallen asleep more than a couple times while writing this chapter, so I apologize if it's weak and subpar, compared to my usual standards. I'm not saying it _is_, I'm just lacking the mental clarity to judge. I've been writing in a half-asleep fog…or half-awake, for you optimists out there.

Oh lord, coffee just doesn't cut it sometimes… I'm going to sleep now.

**PS**- MorganPines8998, I _will_ be using your word, "trees." It will be later in the "year" though. I have a few other chapters to get through first, but I thought you should know. You suggested it and I instantly knew where I was going to go with it, so thank you!


	3. Temper

**Author's Note**: Woohoo! I have received 100+ favs on my pilot fic! Well, now I just feel special. Thank you to all my kind readers out there. I am just so thrilled I am entertaining so many people. That's all I want to do with my stories. I hope I can continue to deliver! Y'all are awesome. Seriously.

Hey…I feel like we need some cake and confetti to celebrate this moment.

Also, I had once read somewhere the cast was supposed to be 19 in the upcoming movie, but they're actually going to be 20, like, officially. Sooooo my whole timeline is kind of off by one year. But, hey. Fan fiction. Who's really keeping track, right?

Me.

I'm keeping track, and it's bothering my OCD side. D,:

**Disclaimer**: I do not own HTTYD or anything that officially pertains to it.

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If there was one thing Hiccup knew about his girlfriend, it was that she had a temper. Astrid could go from calm to enraged in a matter of seconds, depending on the instigating factor. He had known this about her since they were very young, and she was completely unapologetic about it. There was a time, about four years ago, where he had so often been the source of her deepest ire, but those days were long gone, even if her temper was not. It was just part of what made Astrid, well…Astrid. He could overlook her temper on most occasions because it almost always seemed justified. While she had a short fuse, Astrid only seemed to lash out against blatant stupidity—which was usually bad news for their friends. In the recent months, Hiccup was just thankful to be on the receiving end of her affections, as opposed to her fists.

"—And you know what _else_? I am so tired of the way they keep dodging their responsibilities! I mean, if they want to be considered equal members of the academy, then they need to start pulling their own weight!" Astrid snapped, at no one in particular.

She was pacing back and forth in front of Hiccup as he leaned up against tree, arms folded across his chest, patiently listening to her ranting. What had started as Astrid requesting to fly along with him, as he scouted uncharted islands far outside of Berk's territory, had turned into a discussion over the academy—which had then dissolved into a therapy session, where she voiced all her complaints over the way the other teens handled things. Astrid had worn a shallow path in the snow from where she had been pacing, and Hiccup wanted to tell her they should return to Berk before the snowfall picked up, but he dared not interrupt her. He had quickly learned it was best to keep quiet whenever Astrid went on one of her tirades. He would only offer her his advice or opinion when she specifically asked for it, or else he ran the risk of turning her frustration onto himself, and he did not have a death wish. He was content to stand there and let her vent to him, appreciating the beauty that was Astrid, even in that moment.

She spoke with such passion, throwing her hands around animatedly. Her blue eyes were alight with conviction, and she tossed her braided hair back behind her shoulder in that haphazard way she so often did. She was on fire, and while it was enough to make others shrink back in fear, Hiccup could not help but be drawn to her. He would never admit it aloud to her, because she would probably kill him, but she was kind of beautiful when she was angry—well, angry at anyone else.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked him suddenly, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"You," he replied honestly.

"Have you been listening to a word I've said, or just standing there, grinning like an idiot?"

"Both."

Astrid sighed in exasperation and Hiccup strode forward, wrapping his arms around her waist, which seemed to placate her, but only slightly. Her anger was quick to flare and it could also be just as quick to fizzle out, as long as one knew all of the right things to say—and he usually did. He was a very fast learner, as one had to be in order survive a relationship with Astrid Hofferson.

"I happen to agree with you, by the way," he told her, and her expression softened a little more.

"You're not going to do anything about it, though…are you?"

"If Snotlout and the Twins barely contribute now, I don't see how kicking them out of the academy is going to make one bit of difference. It's not like that will encourage them to be more helpful or less destructive," Hiccup answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, it will get them out of our hair, which seems like a good enough reason to me," Astrid grumbled.

"I don't mind them so much."

"Of course _you_ don't. You never seem to get upset at anything," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"That's not true. Snotlout and the Twins get under my skin sometimes. I've also gotten angry over a lot of the decisions my dad has made—particularly the ones involving me."

"Maybe. But you hide it so well. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen you really mad, and that's not just since we've been together—that's considering our whole lives."

Hiccup felt that was a fair assessment. He preferred sarcasm and aggravated sighing over shouting, swearing, and threats of violence. He had raised his voice on more than one occasion, but it was usually to capture someone else's attention, rather than an expression of genuine lividity. Perhaps he never bothered with anger because no one would have taken him seriously before he had trained dragons—he was not much of commanding presence back then. Either way, the patient and diplomatic approached suited him more than Astrid's method of yelling and punching. Still, he loved for her bold, firey approach to life. It definitely kept things interesting.

"It's not that I don't have a temper," he told her. "I'm just very good at controlling it."

"Thank Odin for that, I guess. We probably wouldn't work otherwise. It would be constant warfare! It's a relief I haven't rubbed off on you," she said, smiling—her anger having completely subsided.

Astrid never stayed upset around him for very long, regardless if he was the object of her frustration or not; it was yet another benefit of being her lover.

He kissed her forehead and replied, "I think you_ have_ rubbed off on me. More than you know."

"In all good ways, I hope," she teased, quirking an eyebrow playfully.

Hiccup grinned back at her.

"In all the best ways," he said.

* * *

The snowfall had picked up in the days that followed, coating the archipelago in a thick, white blanket. All ships had remained at port, blocked in by the drift ice. While conditions seemed deplorable, it was just another average winter on Berk, and it did not deter the village from celebrating Snoggletog with the same spiritedness it did every year. If nothing else, the cold only seemed to increase the frivolity as people tried to distract themselves from the bitter winter storm raging outside.

Hiccup had been recruited by his father to help with holiday preparations earlier in the week, in exchange for having the night off from chiefing for Snoggletog. It had seemed like a fair arrangement at the time, so he had agreed, in a considerably better mood than he had been in for Winter Nights only a couple months prior. It was not until he had been helping to hang decorations in the storm's relentless icy blast, or shivering as he took inventory of Trader Johann's last bounty before the ice floes set in, that he really began to consider the pitfalls of his generosity. He had been counting on Astrid's warmth and affections to ward off his emotional frostbite, but she had been in a sour mood ever since Stormfly had departed for the annual dragon migration. Hiccup could not really blame her for her short temper in her dragon's absence. He was less than pleasant whenever he felt he could not satisfy his itch to fly with Toothless. He understood where Astrid was coming from, and so he was nothing if not supportive, keeping her calm in the time they spent together. The eve of Snoggletog seemed to only marginally improve Astrid's mood.

"How are you holding up?" Hiccup asked as they strolled side-by-side between the food-laden tables that decorated the Great Hall.

"Oh, you know…still too firmly rooted to the ground for my liking," Astrid said with a frown.

"I'm sure Stormfly and the other dragons will be back in a few days," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Probably. I guess I should look on the bright side. At least I get to spend the holiday with you this time."

Hiccup smiled softly at her, and she returned it in spite of her sullen mood. She leaned in to kiss him, but the romantic gesture was interrupted as the Twins hurried by. Tuffnut's shoulder collided with hers, knocking her off balance. To make matters worse, he had been holding a tankard full of mead, and when he ran into her, he spilled its contents down the front of her tunic. Hiccup reached out and caught Astrid before she staggered sideways into a table.

"What is _wrong _with you?" she snapped at the male Thortson twin as she regained her footing.

"Thazza long list!" Tuffnut chuckled, slurring his speech.

Ruffnut giggled into her own drink before the two of them hurried off into the crowd again. Astrid took a step forward, meaning to go after him, but Hiccup retained his hold on her. She was fuming, and as much as he believed her anger was justified, he did not want her to spend her holiday upset—he tried to rein in her temper.

"Just let it go, Astrid. Don't waste your energy on Tuffnut. He's not worth the effort," he said.

"I cannot believe this!" she hissed, glancing down at her soaked top in disgust. Then she glared up at Hiccup accusingly. "How can you be so damn calm about it?"

"What do you suggest I do? Punch him out for you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Not necessarily, but it wouldn't kill you to get a little angry sometimes," she grumbled. "Gods! This was my favorite tunic, too! Ugh! I should chase that scrawny little f—"

"Astrid—"

"—er down and beat him senseless!"

"Which would accomplish _what_ exactly?" Hiccup asked.

"Nothing! But it sure would make me feel a lot better!" Astrid replied bitterly, attempting to wring the mead out of her top.

"I can talk to Tuff—"

"Hiccup! Sometimes, words are not enough. We're _Vikings_, remember? There are times you need a bolder approach," she told him irritably.

"I just choose my battles carefully," he replied.

"More like you don't choose them at all. You're going to have to take the more aggressive road eventually," she said, placing her hands on her hips.

Hiccup sighed heavily. As much as he hated to admit it, Astrid had a valid point. Her firey temper kept her from getting pushed around or just accepting whatever life threw at her. When Astrid did not like something, she got loud and she got mad. Obstacles practically leapt out of her path. Hiccup was simply not that way, and he had been pushed around for years because of it. He had long admired Astrid's ability to harness her temper to her own advantage, but unlike her, Hiccup did not charge headlong into his problems—he did not have the temperament for it. He preferred the less confrontational, alternative solutions. When it came to difficult individuals, and Berk had many of them, he often ran into resistance to his diplomatic methods. That was when he leaned on Astrid, and she had no qualms about being an assertive and outspoken supporter of her lover. Hiccup did not see the point of tapping into his own temper when Astrid had enough to share between the two of them.

"Let's just go get our own drinks before I strangle somebody," Astrid demanded, dragging him along.

Since he was the closest person within an arm's reach, he thought it wise not to argue with her.

Once they had obtained their own goblets of wine they joined their friends at their usual table. Hiccup made sure they sat a safe distance from Tuffnut—more for the male Thortson's sake than any other reason. The Twins were completely oblivious to the death glares they were receiving from Astrid as they joked boisterously with Snotlout. At least she was keeping any insults, and more importantly her fists, to herself. It was a positive sign that she was coming down from the very peak of her rage. Fishlegs, meanwhile, was as eager to talk dragons with Hiccup as always, and with the other Viking practically shoving the Book of Dragons under his nose, he was very difficult to ignore.

"Do you just carry that book around with you wherever you go?" Hiccup asked Fishlegs, amused at his enthusiasm.

"Not everywhere, but most places? Sure," he replied, as if such behavior was completely normal. "I wanted to tell you about—"

What dragon-related knowledge he was excited to share, Hiccup did not know. He was distracted by a rather loud and irritating voice that could only come from his cousin.

"C'mon Astrid! It makes perfect sense, admit it! That's the _real_ reason," Snotlout said, draping his rather beefy arm across her slender shoulders.

Hiccup became very irritated at the gesture, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for Snotlout. He had openly flirted with Astrid for years, regardless if Hiccup was standing there or not. Everything had been a competition since they were five, and Astrid had always been the biggest point of contention between the two young men. Snoutlout _knew_ nothing bothered his cousin quite like making advances towards the woman he loved, and so he pursued Astrid relentlessly. Hiccup suspected he did it more now to see if he could get a rise out of him, as opposed to having sincere feelings for Astrid. He tried his best to ignore Snotlout when he acted that way. He did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing his lewd comments had gotten to him.

"Is that what you really think of me?" Astrid asked angrily, shrugging Snotlout's arm off of her. "You're not helping your cause, dumbass."

"I'm not saying I _blame_ you," Snotlout replied, throwing his hands up defensively. "It's a smart move, cozying up to the chiefdom."

Hiccup felt a surge of indignation but he wrestled it back down, as he so often did when his cousin was concerned. Snotlout was one of those Vikings that words just seemed to bounce right off. Astrid was more than capable of holding her own against Snotlout's advances, so Hiccup bit his tongue, but as his cousin spoke so rudely to his girlfriend, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold his anger back.

"You are such. An. _Ass!"_ Astrid hissed, punching Snotlout hard in the shoulder, but the other Viking was so broad that he barely moved from the impact. "For your information, I actually like him—not that I have to defend our relationship to _you_."

"You can't tell me you've never wondered what it would be like to be with a _real_ Viking," Snotlout said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Hiccup gripped his goblet tightly, as if trying to reroute his bubbling ire into the cold metal in his hands. As much as he cared about his cousin on a very deep level—so deep it was almost nonexistent—Snotlout was dancing along a very thin line at that moment. Before Astrid was his, Hiccup never felt he had much of a right to be genuinely upset when Snotlout tried to put the moves on her. He had always settled for frustration and annoyance, instead—but things were different now that Astrid was his girlfriend. Snotlout was the one who did not have the right. While Hiccup considered himself to be patient and even-tempered, there was one thing that was intolerable, and Snotlout was about to cross that threshold. Hiccup took deep, steadying breaths to keep his anger in check—he was not accustomed to releasing it, no matter how infuriated he got. He had always controlled his temper so effectively. Between himself and Astrid, one of them had to be the calmer soul.

"Snotlout, I swear to Thor, if you do not shut your big mouth…!" Astrid threatened, balling her hands into fists.

"You're going to punch me, right?" Snotlout retorted, almost laughing at the thought. "Sorry Astrid, but that never seems to work out for you."

"Have you ever thought that maybe your rotten personality is why you can't get a girl?" Astrid asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I can get plenty of girls! That doesn't mean I want to keep them around," Snoutlout replied. "So, that's why you have nothing to worry about. Hooking up with me means no strings attached! What do you say? You don't even have to break up with Hiccup or anything."

On the outside, Hiccup would wager he seemed cool and collected, like he was completely unaware of the conversation going on a few feet from him—he had perfected the ability of seeming disinterested. He was vaguely aware that Fishlegs was still talking to him, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil.

"Ew. _Stop_. You're going to make me vomit!" Astrid hissed, but she just sounded exhausted. Years of dealing with Snotlout was finally getting to her, it seemed.

"Think about it. You can still have Hiccup, although only Odin knows why you'd want to…and then you can have a little bit of Snotlout on the side. It's the best of both worlds, and—"

"Snotlout. Leave her alone," Hiccup said firmly, glaring down the table at his cousin.

Astrid cast him a wary sidelong glance; the tone in his voice was one he rarely used.

"Yeah? Are you going to make me?" Snotlout asked challengingly.

It had taken years of suffering through his cousin's uncouth behavior and listening to his crude comments, but Hiccup had finally had enough. He was tired of the disrespect—not so much towards himself, but towards Astrid. Snoutlout could say whatever he wanted to about him and Hiccup would be content to just ignore him. It was an entirely different matter for Snotlout to talk to Astrid as he did.

The other Viking laughed when Hiccup just stared back at him, furious. He had never taken him seriously before, but then again, Hiccup had only ever tried to reason with his cousin, and words just did not work on Snotlout. Maybe he needed to try a bolder approach, as Astrid had suggested.

"Well, damn. My drink is empty," Snoutlout said, rising to his feet. "I'll be right back, Astrid. In the meantime, you can think about my proposition."

As he passed behind them, Hiccup had only a moment to make up his mind, but it was more than enough.

"Hey, Snotlout…," he said, just loud enough to grab his cousin's attention.

"Yeah, _what_?" Snotlout asked impatiently.

Hiccup took a deep breath, then he leapt to his feet. Before Snotlout had a chance to react, he drew back his fist and struck his cousin in the jaw with all the strength he could muster. There was a sharp pain that rippled up the length of his arm from his knuckles, but it was worth it. He would never had assumed he could punch hard enough to incapacitate Snotlout, but the bewildered look on his cousins face as he stumbled back a few paces was good enough. He had packed thirteen years of pent up fury into his fist, and though Snotlout probably had endured far worse punches in his lifetime, Hiccup hoped he had felt every bit of anger he had ever harbored towards him.

There was a collective gasp from the teens at the table and Astrid was instantly on her feet beside Hiccup, concern in her eyes.

Snotlout stared back at him, wide-eyed. He looked torn between indignation and fear. As Hiccup took a step towards him, he balked—which was a first in their strained relationship. As they stared each other down, it was as if Snotlout was seeing his cousin as a proper Viking, for the first time. If violence had brought them to a new level of understanding, Hiccup had no regrets about hitting the other young man.

"So, I'm going to go get that drink now!" Snotlout said quickly, hurrying off before the situation could get any more uncomfortable for him.

Hiccup glared after his cousin for a brief moment before turning back to the table. The other teens were all staring up at him, open-mouthed.

"_What_?" he snapped defensively. "You can't tell me he didn't have that coming!"

The Twins busied themselves with their tankards and Fishlegs pretended to lose himself in a particularly interesting page in the Book of Dragons, each of them determinedly avoiding his gaze. Hiccup sighed heavily and returned to his seat, feeling a little foolish for losing his temper, if that was how his friends were going to react to him. That was one reason he never bothered giving into his frustration before. He never wanted to be seen as unstable or unreasonable. He had not been trying to change anyone's perception of him—with the exception of Snotlout, maybe. He still considered himself to be patient and slow to anger, despite his sudden aggressive outburst. After all, it had taken thirteen years of putting up with Snotlout's abrasive personality to drive him to violence. In all honesty, it would likely be another thirteen years before he sucker-punched anyone again.

"Well, I think that brings the total count to a whopping four times you've ever lost your temper," Astrid said, sitting back down next to him.

"I'm sorry. I just…I think he needed that. I think _I_ needed that," he replied.

"And here I thought you never let yourself get angry."

"I never said I didn't get angry. Only that I choose my battles carefully," he reminded her.

"And Snotlout seemed worth it to you?"

"Whether he is or not, I certainly feel a lot better," Hiccup admitted, grinning sheepishly. "Now I know why you enjoy punching people so much."

"_Stupid_ people," Astrid corrected.

"Well, I'm sure Snotlout will pretend this never happened, and I think my hand will be feeling it for the rest of the week," Hiccup said, glancing down at his aching knuckles, flexing his fingers experimentally.

"That was amazing, though," she told him with a small smile. "Standing up for me like that. You didn't have to."

"I know I didn't, but I recall you telling me I had to be willing to take a more aggressive approach to my problems. Fists seem to be one of the few forms of communication that Snotlout actually understands."

"I guess I really am rubbing off on you," she said smugly.

"Yes, you are."

"In all good ways?"

"In all the best ways, Astrid."

She leaned in a kissed him softly, and they both ignored the sounds of the disgust coming from the Twins.

"I love you," she whispered for only him to hear.

"I love you, too."

Hiccup supposed he should not feel even remotely guilty for punching Snotlout, especially if Astrid supported him, everyone else's opinions be damned. After all, he did not plan on making a habit out of using his fists— and not just because he did not have the physical strength to do so. No, that was a means of conflict resolution more suited to Astrid's temperament than his own. He still valued tactful discussions and a calm demeanor, punctuated with the occasional sarcastic remark to further emphasize his point. The reason he and Astrid worked so well together is because they were so fundamentally different, and he had no intention of changing the dynamics of their relationship. While it was a new boost of confidence that he could successfully apply Astrid's heavy-handed approach, he liked himself more when he resolved things without resorting to violence. He suspected Astrid did, too—even if she was thrilled he had finally stood up to his cousin using more effective methods.

Yes, they were definitely of opposite temperaments. That much was undeniable—but through trial and error, they had begun to figure out how to reconcile their differences. They each made up for what the other person lacked. They were learning how to make all of the pieces of themselves fit together. Forging anything, from iron blades to iron-clad relationships, took periods of heating and cooling, and hammering away at stubbornly rooted imperfections. It may take a lifetime, but that was not an issue. Hiccup had the patience and Astrid had the fire. Together, they could temper their love into something strong and unyielding.

Something everlasting.

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**Author's Note: ** Hey, so I just wanted to give a shout out to two of my readers. aadit24, you suggested I use the word promise. ClearBear, you suggested crashes. I will be using both of these words, but it might not be right away, so I thought you should know now. Thank you for the help!


	4. Letters

**Author's Note: ** Okay, so I'm kind of trying something entirely different with this one-shot, and I'm not sure if it's going to be good or complete crap so…here I go, rolling those dice. After being stuck on chapter 4 for nearly a day and a half, I scrapped whatever I _did_ have and went with this instead. Soooooooo, yay?

Also, I apologize if I never made it apparent in this fic, but all my stories build off of one another. So, if I reference some past event that has happened to either Hiccup or Astrid that makes you go "huh, what?" there's a 99% chance it's because you haven't read my other work. That's okay, though! I'm not saying you _have_ to, only that things might make more sense if you do...and I would greatly appreciate it. Especially if you fav/review. I will love you forever. Seriously. I'm insecure in my writing, y'all. You don't even know what getting positive reviews means to me!

One last thing, and then we'll get back to your regularly scheduled fan fiction...if you are a fan of the HTTYD book series then you'll probably hate me because I do not follow those books. At all. I'm sure they're great, I just love the movie/TV show canon too much. So, there you go. Are we all on the same page? Fantastic. I'll shut up now.

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own nuthin'!

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Astrid stood on the edge of the docks, watching as the longship carrying her boyfriend grew smaller and smaller as it neared the horizon. Snow had begun to fall in thick clumps, obscuring her vision even further. Toothless sat beside her, warbling dolefully after the wooden vessel carrying his Viking counterpart out to sea. Astrid knew Hiccup and his father would only be gone for a week, but it seemed like an eternity considering winter was laying siege to Berk, battering the island with snow, sleet, and freezing sea sprays. The winter storms had been raging for nearly two weeks, putting a halt to any flying, or any other outdoor activities, for that matter. Life on Berk was at a standstill, and the bitter cold seemed to permeate through every crack and every crevice, creeping into every room and every corner, no matter what the structure. Even the Great Hall was not safe from the unrelenting freeze.

Cold weather alone was not enough to perturb such a stalwart tribe of Vikings—centuries of braving the elements had built up their tolerance for the bleak climate. It was the icy tempests that assaulted the island that had the entire village in hibernation mode. No one dared do any work outdoors while the seasonal blizzards were at their strongest. Vikings could be a little reckless and headstrong at times, but they did not have a death wish.

Every year was the same. Snoggletog ended and the dragons returned from their migration shortly thereafter. The retreating holiday season would take with it the last bit of pleasant winter weather until summer—but Astrid supposed 'pleasant' was only relatively speaking. As far as Berk was concerned, it just meant that one could step outdoors without fear of frostbite setting in, even though all feeling in the fingers, toes, and face would still be gone within minutes. Winters had always been brutal on their island. That much was undeniable. But for whatever reason, that year was proving to be particularly awful.

There had finally been a break in the icy onslaught and the pack ice had thinned enough for the fishing boats to venture out again, desperately trying to make up for the two weeks stuck at port. That was when Hiccup had informed her that he was to accompany his father on some sort of diplomatic excursion, to meet with the other Viking chieftains and clan leaders from their frigid corner of the world.

"Do you have to go? Please, find some way to talk your father out of it," she had pleaded with him.

"If it had been a few months ago, maybe I would have," he replied. "He's given me more freedom and respect since then, and so I feel compelled to do this. It's important, Astrid."

She could tell by the tone in his voice that he had made up his mind, so she had resigned herself to being snowed in with the other teens. It did nothing to help her mood when she had discovered Spitelout was going to be the acting chief while Stoick was away. Astrid had no problem with the man himself, but dealing with his son's smug face as he strutted around Berk like he owned it might actually drive her to madness.

"It's going to be alright," Hiccup had told her reassuringly, as they exchanged farewells on the dock. "I'll be back before you know it. Will you take care of Toothless for me, in the meantime?"

"Of course," Astrid said, hugging him tightly.

"Thank you," he replied, kissing her forehead. "I'm taking Sharpshot with me. He's much less threatening than Toothless. I promise to write to you, though I'm sure Sharpshot will hate me for it."

"We can alternate between him and Sneaky, to give them both a break," Astrid suggested.

"It's a good idea, but I hope to be back before either one of them gets too exhausted."

They leaned in to share a kiss but they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat, loudly. They turned to see Stoick standing there, looking genuinely apologetic for intruding in on their moment.

"Hiccup, it's time te go," he said, nodding towards the ship.

Indeed, the crew was all in position to leave, and they were staring at Hiccup impatiently.

"Okay. I understand. I'll be right there," he replied.

As his father boarded the ship, Hiccup kissed Astrid softly. Her eyes fluttered closed and she wrapped her arms around his neck. A few members of the crew whistled and cat-called as they shared a few final moments together, deepening the kiss. Toothless growled and nudged Hiccup insistently until the two of them broke apart. While Astrid was a little indignant, Hiccup just smiled and stroked the Night Fury under the chin, affectionately.

"I'm going to miss you too, bud," he said. "But I'll be back in a few days."

"Hiccup!" Stoick called firmly.

"Damn it," Hiccup swore under his breath. "I guess I'd better get moving."

He gave Astrid one last quick kiss on the cheek and briefly patted Toothless' snout before he boarded the longship after his father.

From that point on, Astrid and the Night Fury silently watched as Hiccup sailed off into the distance. Astrid shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as the snow fell all thickly around them. Both she and the dragon felt a little lost, unsure of what to do with themselves for the next week. Toothless glanced down at her and warbled pitifully.

"I know. Me too," she said, sighing heavily; her breath was a visible puff of smoke. "I'm sorry I don't know how to operate your tail…_thing_. I'm afraid I'm not as much fun as he is."

The Night Fury nuzzled her anyway and Astrid smiled in spite of her sadness, reaching up to pet him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked the dragon curiously. "Let's go get something to eat."

Toothless' ear nubs twitched excitedly and he followed along closely as Astrid made her way towards the Great Hall. It was comforting to have the Night Fury nearby as she strolled through the empty village—everyone was likely huddled around a fire, hiding out from the cold. In a strange way, it was like a part of Hiccup was still with her when Toothless was around. Perhaps the week would not be so dull with the Night Fury too look after.

* * *

That evening, the winds had picked up again, even though the snow and sleet had somewhat died down, but it was nothing like the dismal weather of the preceding couple of weeks. Astrid only hoped the storm was rather mild to nonexistent, wherever Hiccup happened to be at the moment.

She sat in a corner of the Great Hall with Stormfly and Toothless, placing a basket of half-frozen fish in front of each dragon. She did not much feel like conversation, and she was thankful for the silent companionship the dragons provided—but it was short-lived. She had only just sat down to devour a bowl of lamb stew when Fishlegs hurried over to her, shadowed by his loyal Gronckle. Out of all the souls left on Berk to disturb her, she found Fishlegs the most tolerable, so she gestured for him to sit down beside her.

"Hey Astrid!" he said brightly "How's it going?"

"Fine, all things considered," she replied with a shrug.

"How is Toothless doing? How are _you_ doing?" he asked.

"Fine, Fishlegs," she repeated. "Don't expect us to fall to pieces just because Hiccup's gone for a few days."

"I don't!' he replied defensively. "I was just wondering if there was anything you might need help with. You know, anything dragon-related?"

Astrid noticed Fishlegs was staring at Toothless eagerly, and she could not help but feel he was excited at the prospect of one-on-one time with the Night Fury, to study him without Hiccup around. Fishlegs admired his best friend, but that did not mean he did not try to one-up the resident dragon-expert when he could. It always made Fishlegs swell with pride when he uncovered something about dragons that Hiccup did not know, but she doubted he would have any such luck with Toothless.

"Trust me, Fishlegs. There's nothing about Toothless you could learn that Hiccup isn't already well aware of," Astrid replied with a smirk.

"Perhaps," Fishlegs said. "I have a whole week to find out."

Astrid just rolled her eyes playfully and Fishlegs grinned. The two of them continued to talk about dragons and how soon they anticipated resuming classes at the academy again—Hiccup had cancelled them since no one seemed very interested in trudging over to the old arena in height of the winter storms. Their conversation took Astrid to the very bottom of her bowl of stew, but she was still hungry, or maybe she was just looking for a distraction. Either way, she excused herself from the table for a refill and Fishlegs waited patiently for her to return.

As she made her way to the nearest cauldron filled with the savory stew, she spotted a familiar little green dragon scurrying towards her. Her heart skipped a beat, hardly daring to believe what she saw.

"Sharpshot!" she exclaimed, kneeling down to scoop up the Terrible Terror in her arms.

He looked thrilled to see her, crawling up on her shoulders excitedly before she removed a rolled up piece of parchment that was firmly attached to the dragon's leg. She knew Hiccup had planned to write her while he was away, but she had not anticipated a letter from him so soon, but she could hardly complain.

She unrolled the piece of parchment, positively beaming. It read:

_Dear Astrid,_

_I originally planned to first write you when we got into port, but the winds were already starting to pick up here. I wanted to get a least one letter to you while I had the opportunity. I hope you are having a more enjoyable time back home than I am on this ship. I can tell you now, without a doubt, I am not a seafaring Viking. I feel trapped on this ship, and everywhere I turn, I feel as though I am tripping over someone or getting in the way. There is also no privacy. I have already been interrupted a half dozen times while writing this. It is infuriating. I do not understand how sailors and fisherman view life on the sea as liberating. Clearly, they have never flown on a dragon—but I digress._

_I wanted to tell you that I hope I did not offend you when I insisted on coming on this trip with my dad. I do not want you to think I would rather be here, listening to a bunch of burly Vikings swapping tales of their conquests at foreign ports. I want nothing more than to be with you, anytime. Anywhere. I hope you understand. It has occurred to me that I will be chief someday, whether I like it or not. As much as I fear letting Berk down, there is no one else whose disappointment would hurt me more than yours. While I owe it to everyone to be the chief Berk deserves, I owe it to you most of all, because you are the most important person in my life. That is why I have decided to be more accepting of the responsibility I carry. I need to learn how to do this right. Does that make sense? I hope it makes sense._

_How is Toothless doing? I hope he is not being too difficult. I know he is in good hands. I miss you already. Is that pathetic? I hope to hear from you soon, as long as the weather permits. Take care, milady._

_Affectionately yours,_

_-H._

Astrid felt giddy as she hurried back to the table where Fishlegs was sitting, her second bowl of lamb stew long forgotten.

"Is that Sharpshot?" Fishlegs asked, surprised to see the Terror perched on her shoulder.

"Do you have something to write with?" she replied, ignoring his question entirely.

The other Viking usually carried a charcoal pencil and the Book of Dragons with him at all times. Astrid hoped that evening was no different, and Fishlegs did not disappoint her. He rummaged around inside his satchel bag that he often carried, containing the book, until he was able to produce a charcoal pencil and a spare piece of parchment for her to use.

"Is that from Hiccup?" he asked curiously as he handed her the writing materials.

She just feigned deafness again, unrolling the blank parchment out in front of her. She wrote back:

_Hiccup,_

_I was surprised to get your letter. I was not expecting anything from you for at least a couple more days. I am sorry to hear you are so miserable. You should not have left me—joking, of course. I was not offended that you chose to leave. Please, give me a little more credit than that. I understand the position you are in. I think you are doing a great job. Truly. I know the others sometime give you a hard time about it, but I do not think they realize how much you actually do for them, and for Berk. You are going to be great, Hiccup—and when am I ever wrong? _

_Do not worry about Toothless. He has been perfect for me. I know I am no replacement for you in his eyes, but he seems to like spending time with Stormfly, at least. Hey, I think your dragon is attracted to my dragon. Is that possible? A simple yes or no is fine. I do not need a five page letter on the subject._

_Send me another letter when you reach your destination. I wish I could be there. Tell me what it is like. I want to be able to picture it when I close my eyes. Damn. It seems like I am about out of parchment. I am looking forward to your next letter._

_ With love,_

_ -Astrid_

She read it over a couple of times to make sure it sounded alright, then she rolled it up and tucked it away, planning on sending it out in the morning—she felt like Sharpshot deserved a good night's rest.

* * *

The next day, as snow continued to fall softly all over the archipelago, the winds were finally calming down, and Astrid only hoped it stayed that way so the Terrible Terror could safely return to his master. She sent out her response to Hiccup's letter and waited, hoping the tiny dragon could safely make the journey. Her fears were assuaged when she received a reply two nights later. It said:

_Dearest Astrid,_

_ I cannot thank you enough for taking care of Toothless while I am gone. I know you feel there is not much you can do for him, but knowing you are there to keep him company is enough for me. Also, I seriously doubt Toothless has any romantic feelings for Stormfly. Dragons do not feel love in the same way humans do. Mating for them is on a purely instinctual level. Therefore, the likelihood of a Night Fury and a Deadly Nadder-never mind. That is the short answer you were looking for, I hope._

_We arrived in port yesterday—probably two days ago by the time you receive this letter. It is a small island with not much going for it other than this great, opulent mead hall built on top of a hill. I think it might actually put our Great Hall to shame. That is something I did not previously think possible. There is no village here. There are only tents and merchants catering to those of us attending this important meeting tomorrow. Dad explained that periodically, throughout the year and in times of crisis, all of the leaders of the various Viking tribes and clans would meet here to discuss laws, trade, war, and other issues of importance. I hope I am not boring you with these details, but I find it all sort of fascinating. More than I thought I would. I suppose that is a good thing, considering I will be making regular visits here for the rest of my natural life. I hope next time I can travel here on Toothless. I do not care much for longships anymore. _

_Dad says my presence here is important. The more I attend these meetings the more I will be recognized as a legitimate heir by our allies when I finally inherit the chiefdom. The problem is, I do not care too much for many of our allies. They still kill dragons. Dad had forbidden me from discussing dragon training in any form. He says there are many tribes that may know we have 'conquered' dragons, but do not know how domesticated our dragons really are, and maintaining our secrecy is our greatest defense. That being said, I think we will have to send air mail with Sneaky from now on. If I am discovered sending messages by Terrible Terrors, it will make things a little difficult to explain._

_I know you wanted more details about what this place is like, but honestly, we are still getting settled here. I will let you know more as things unfold. I hope you write back soon. I think about you constantly. You are my greatest and most welcome distraction._

_Missing you with every breath,_

_-H._

* * *

_Hiccup,_

_I would like to see the place you have described. If nothing else, I would like to meet Vikings of a different tribe, to compare similarities and differences. I do find it difficult to accept there are still people out there slaughtering dragons, though. The thought makes me ill, as I imagine it does you, too. Perhaps that is something you and your dad can change—over time, if necessary. If there is anyone who can reverse centuries of stubbornly rooted Viking tradition, it is you._

_It is very cold here, as I am sure you are aware. I wonder if the weather is any better where you are. The days are tolerable, but the nights are lonely without you. I do not think I have ever had such difficulty sleeping before. It is just too damn cold here._

_I hope the winds grant you a swift return to Berk whenever you set sail again. I know you must be preoccupied now that the meetings are in full swing, but if you can spare a moment, I hope you think about home and the people here that care about you._

_Love always,_

_-Astrid_

* * *

_Dearest Astrid,_

_You do not want to meet many of the men I have encountered here. If you thought Dagur and his Berserkers were an anomaly in Viking culture, I am sad to say that kind of behavior is more of the rule, and Berk is the exception. I have heard stories of what these other tribes have done along the mainland far to the east, and I hate to be associated with any of that violence. Trust me. You do not need to know all of the things they have done. But I see now the reputation of our people in this world, and I would like to lead Berk in the opposite direction—but these are conversations best left for another time. I do not want to make it seem like all of the other Vikings I met were horrible people. I met this one chief and his wife. They left an impression on me. She was one of the only women there, and she was more than the man's wife. She was his confidant, right hand, and his equal. Anyway, it gave me a lot to think about._

_ I think you may be pleased to know that we set sail in the morning, but I suppose we may even be halfway home by the time you get this. I want you to know that I spared more than a few moments to think of you. In fact, my thoughts strayed home to you often, and I confess they were not all innocent. It is needless to say that I am eager to return home to you. Being away from you is a miserable thing. Look for us on the horizon. I will hold you in my arms again, soon._

_ Keeping you in my thoughts, always,_

_ -H._

* * *

_ My future chief,_

_ I see your ship off in the distance now, and it feels like I can finally release the breath I did not know I was holding. Your dragon is out of his mind with excitement and I cannot blame him. I have missed you terribly. I know there is not much point in writing this to you now that you are almost home, but there is something almost therapeutic in spilling my thoughts out on this piece of parchment, since we both know I cannot really bring myself to be as vulnerable as we both would like me to be._

_For as much as you seem to dread the all responsibility that inheriting the chiefdom holds, I do not think you realize how incredible you already are. You wrote about a chief and his wife in your last letter. I desperately want to know what thoughts they had inspired in you, but I know that I will never ask you, because I am terrified of your answer. I think you know that, too—which is why you have never brought up the subject yourself. Not to me, anyway. I know you know what I am talking about. One day, you will need to choose your equal, like that man and his wife. Like your father and Valka. I do not know why it is something we are too afraid to talk about, when it is inevitable._

_I guess it does not matter. You are coming home to me, and right now, that is enough. I can confess this all to you now because I know you will never read this letter. Maybe one day I can be strong enough to say these words to you in person, instead of quickly scribbling them down in the solitude of my bedroom. This is the best I can do. It is the closest I can come to confessing to you that I want you, not just for right now, but for my whole life. It sounds too weak for me to say aloud, so that is why I have to write it down.  
_

_ Let me be your equal._

_Forever yours,_

_-Astrid_

* * *

Hiccup and his father received quite the warm welcome upon finally returning home, and only a few short years ago, he never thought he would be so happy to see his village, or the people in it. Then again, it helped a great deal that he had Astrid and Toothless to come back to. He wanted so desperately to be alone with his girlfriend and his dragon, but part of being the chief-in-training meant he had to make small talk and regale anyone who asked with the story of his travels. He did not much care for it, but he patiently waited until the crowds thinned around him and his father before attempting to abandon the act in favor of reconnecting with the two most important parts of his life.

"I'm not experienced in writing love letters," he told Astrid when they could finally slip away together after dinner in the Great Hall. "But I hope they were comforting, if only a little."

Toothless was glued to his side and Hiccup continued to absentmindedly pat the dragon's scaly hide as he and Astrid spoke.

"I enjoyed them," she admitted with a small smile. "I kept all of them."

"Really?"

"Yes. I think I'll whip them out in a few years, just to embarrass you," she replied.

Hiccup laughed and said, "Well, it's a good thing I kept yours, too."

"Well played!"

As they walked by a fire pit, he noticed Astrid hastily pull a folded piece of parchment out from the waistband of her skirt, discarding it unceremoniously into the flames.

"What was that?" Hiccup asked curiously.

"A love letter from my _other_ boyfriend," she teased.

"I didn't know battle axes could write," he replied.

Astrid wrinkled her nose in the cute way she sometimes did before punching him playfully in the arm.

"Very funny," she said. "It was just an old, spare piece of parchment I've been meaning to get rid of."

"And you've just been carrying it around in your skirt?"

"What's with the interrogation?" she retorted, placing her hands on her hips.

"I just find it odd, is all. But I guess I really should stop trying to figure out why you do the things that you do," Hiccup replied. "I don't think I'll ever figure you out."

"Well, I hope not! What would be the fun in that?" she asked.

Hiccup just shook his head, casting one last glance into the fire pit. The piece of parchment had quickly been reduced to ashes—whatever secrets it held had burnt up with it. It could have been blank, he supposed, but then why go through the trouble of concealing and then destroying it? It did not make much sense to him, but he had long since decided not to second guess Astrid's behavior too much. It gave him a headache.

She brought him out of his reverie by pressing her lips gently to his. After a week without physical contact, the innocent kiss immediately triggered a different area of his brain.

"Would you like to get out of here? The Great Hall is feeling a bit crowded, don't you think?"

Astrid grinned broadly at him and said, "It's about time you asked."

Suddenly worrying about a little piece of parchment seemed so stupid, even if there had been something written on it.

It was probably not important, anyway.

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**Author's Note: **Sorry this took soooooo long to update. Not only would life not leave me alone last week, but I had spent forever and a day working on the next chapter for these one shots. I ran some of the ideas in that unfinished chapter by my editor and he was like, "So…_why_ aren't you making a full length story off of that concept, again?" I honestly did not have a good answer for him. Damn it. So, all that time and effort has been set aside for another story to follow these one-shots. *sigh*…*_siiiiiiiigh_* Yep. Now there's _that._ It explains why I did not post anything last week. Now I'm trying to make up for it this week by posting two or three chapters if I can manage it—_I make no promises!_

****PS: **Pretty soon here, I'll be starting to utilize some of the words people have suggested to me. If I haven't explicitly stated I'll use your word in one of my author's notes already, then it is currently not on my list to use. I apologize if you have thrown an idea out there and I don't end up using it. It's not that it isn't a good word/idea. Sometimes, I'll even get suggestions for words I was already planning to use, like the word promises. I will still give a shout out, though (aadit24), because I think it's cool when one of my readers and I are on the same page. I'm now up to 9 out of 12 words on my list, and so a word or concept really has to grab me by the feels for me to use it. I can't use everyone's suggestions, and for that, I am sorry y'all. I'm not trying to be mean. I really appreciate the help, though! Cheers!


	5. Crash

**Author's Note**: Woohoo! Two chapters in one week? This is madness!

Credit for this chapter has to be given to ClearBear for suggesting the word "crashes" to me. I was intrigued by the concept and what exactly I could do with it to turn it into a fluffy piece of Hiccstrid. This is what I came up with. I hope I have done right by you, ClearBear.

**Disclaimer: **Hahaha. I realized immediately after posting this chapter I forgot to add a disclaimer. So here it is:

I do not own HTTYD or anything officially pertaining to it. Not the movies, the books, or the TV show.

Shocking, I know.

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Love and romance were two subjects that were not often discussed on Berk. No one could deny they were both very real, but in-depth conversations about either concept would leave those involved feeling uncomfortable. There were some things that were just too un-Viking to talk about in every day conversation. Hiccup thought it strange that lewdness and vulgarity often failed to make anyone flinch, but things of a sentimental nature could really make a Viking squirm. He did not fully understand it, but he had been raised in that way of thinking, so discussing his feelings for Astrid with anyone but her was just unacceptable—not that anyone actually cared to know what went on between them on a deeper, emotional level. There were only two things he was regularly asked: When would they be married and had what kind of things did the two of them get up to behind closed doors?

The first question just annoyed him, because he felt a lot a pressure to enter wedlock since turning eighteen. Not to mention, Astrid had only narrowly escaped an arranged marriage contract not even a year before. He found it a bit tactless for people to assume he would have immediately turned around and married her so soon afterwards. Additionally, the more he felt pushed and prodded into it, the more the very idea of marriage caused him anxiety. If Berk _really_ wanted to see the Haddock and Hofferson clan united through matrimony, then the smartest thing the village could do was get off his back about it.

The other question, regarding the physical nature of their relationship—well, that was just nobody else's damn business, as far as Hiccup was concerned. He did not appreciate the preoccupation with his sex life, particularly by those closest to him. He recognized that such affairs were often shared, exaggerated, and laughed about over a tankard of alcoholic beverage, but he was not the kind of person to openly boast about such things. He respected Astrid too much, even though his girlfriend was surprisingly unperturbed by the onslaught of personal questions they were asked—she often had to answer, or rather evade, the very same questions he did. She took it in all in stride however, and deflected the inquiries with a joke, playing it for laughs—unless the subject was breached by their friends. Then her fists did the talking. Hiccup appreciated Astrid's silence for no other reason than it kept sensitive details of their relationship from being made known to the general public, which had spared him a painful and gruesome death at the hands of her father.

"You're being very quiet," Astrid said suddenly, causing him to jump a little.

The two of them had been preparing their dragons for a midday flight around the island. They were looking forward to taking advantage of the clear skies that graced Berk between bouts of winter storms.

"I'm sorry. I was lost in thought," he replied, securing the last piece of Toothless' prosthetic in place.

"What about?" Astrid asked curiously, adjusting the saddle atop Stormfly.

"How backwards some of our customs are," he answered.

She just smiled knowingly at him and he felt a rush of affection for her. As uncomfortable as it would be to be interrogated about his feelings for Astrid, it would make a nice change, regardless if he could bring himself to answer those kind of questions or not. Perhaps, in addition to being considered in bad taste, no one bothered to ask because it was just so painfully obvious that he was so desperately in love with her. There was nothing he could do to resist her, even if he tried. It was funny how quickly and unwittingly one could lose themselves in another person.

He and Astrid had known each other their entire lives, and for years she had pretended he did not even exist while he admired her from afar, believing he could never do or say enough to bridge the gap between them. Then they had become friends, or perhaps they had been a little more, with the way Astrid's lips would occasionally collide with his, uncertain at times, but always resolute. Things had once again changed between them shortly thereafter, and they had drifted apart for a few years, only to be drawn back together again. It was as if there was an invisible line tethering them to one another, destined to bring them crashing back together if they ever strayed too far for too long.

Crash. How appropriate it was to describe their relationship in that way. In fact, nearly every major change in his life had come about in a similar fashion. Toothless had crash-landed on their island, instead of into the sea, changing the fate of Berk forever, giving Hiccup a drive and purpose in life. During his battle with the Red Death, he and Toothless had collided with the massive dragon's club-like tail, causing him to plunge into the flames, leading the eventual amputation of part of his left leg. Looking back on the experience however, he could honestly say he had no regrets. The admiration of his people had crashed over him like a tidal wave in the wake the Red Death's defeat. The acceptance of his role as future chief had inevitably followed, the responsibility of it all colliding with him like blow to the chest. When he thought about it, very few changes in his life had ever been gradual. Life really needed to find alternative, less violently abrupt means of shifting, even if it was for the better.

Then, of course, there was Astrid. Nothing about her was slow and steady. Ever since they had gotten together, their love had been, and continued to be, a series of miniature collisions. The way she force herself onto him, albeit meeting no resistance to speak of, or the way they would tumble into his bed, or on to the ground, or back each other into walls—it was like repetitively diving into a maelstrom, but he hoped never to surface. It was all so aggressive, as was Astrid's way, but Hiccup could not find it in himself to complain.

After years of longing and nothing to show for it, Astrid had crashed into his life like a falling star, burning so brilliantly that nearly everything else dulled in comparison. The impact had struck him to the core, and half a year later he was still feeling the aftershocks, wondering if his head would ever stop spinning. Astrid had always been there, of course. But she had been a distant object, always attracting him while simultaneously keeping him at arm's length. Still, they were too perfect together to remain separate entities, drifting independently through space. They had always been two halves of a whole that just made sense, destined to collide in an explosion of pent up affections that might have very well burnt Berk to the ground, had they lacked whatever little self-control they _did _possess.

"Are you coming or not?" Astrid asked, with an amused smirk on her face.

She was sitting patiently on Stormfly's back, having mounted her dragon while he had been busy daydreaming.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I was lost in thought, again."

"Have I ever told you that you think too much?" she teased him as he climbed onto Toothless' back, locking his prosthetic into the Night Fury's.

"On occasion," he replied.

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"Race me," she demanded, gripping her Nadder's reins tightly in her hands.

"Hmm. I don't know. What do I get if I win?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her, both of them knowing there was no real contest, unless he was feeling generous enough to let her win.

"Name it," she said.

"How about…you rub my shoulders?" he replied.

Astrid just stared back at him, looking torn between amusement and exasperation at the suggestion.

"Come on," he said, grinning broadly. "You know the right one just gets so _stiff_."

While the statement had not been entirely false, he pretended to grimace as he rolled his shoulder in an exaggerated motion. Toothless joined in the act by warbling pitifully over his rider's old injury. Hiccup could always count on his Night Fury to have his back.

Astrid rolled her eyes and shook her head, laughing softly.

"Okay, fine! But if _I_ win…" she trailed off with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Hiccup did not need for her to finish the rest of her sentence. He already knew what her prize would be, and he suddenly made up his mind to let her win that round. Either way, he was going to benefit from it.

"Deal," he said.

Astrid gave him one last smirk and then they were airborne, racing side by side towards the clouds above. It may have still been freezing, numbing his fingers as Toothless climbed skyward, but that was just life on Berk. If frostbite was not an imminent threat, then it just was not cold enough to be winter.

Stormfly pulled ahead of him and Astrid glanced back.

"I guess your shoulder isn't hurting you _that_ badly, huh?" she asked over the rushing wind.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, feigning ignorance.

Astrid urged her dragon forward, breaking through the clouds first, followed closely by Toothless. She let out a victorious cheer, thrusting her first in the air, and they both pretended as though the Night Fury could not have just easily blown past her, had Hiccup been motivated to win. Fortunately for her, he was content to see her happy, so he graciously accepted defeat.

Astrid smiled sweetly at him as they flew along, side-by-side. Hiccup thought she scarcely looked more beautiful than when she felt uninhibited and free, soaring through the skies on the back of her Deadly Nadder, with bright eyes and wind-tousled hair. As she gazed intently at him, he could sense the impending crash—a violent collision of their mounting desires. He wondered vaguely if everyone in love felt the same way, but that was not something anybody else on Berk was willing to discuss with him. Such things were just too intimate for "polite" conversation—and he used the term loosely.

He continued to chase Astrid and Stormfly through the clouds, knowing that he was completely powerless to do anything but follow her. After all, there was a driving force—a gravity that existed between them, and it was so much bigger and stronger than he was.

Toothless maneuvered himself right alongside the Deadly Nadder, and Astrid attempted to lose them by guiding Stormfly into a steep and spectacular dive. While the flight was all in good fun in Hiccup's mind, his Night Fury was far more competitive than he was, and Toothless was determined to show Stormfly who was the superior flyer between the two of them. Hiccup complied, clicking the tail fin into position so Toothless could barrel roll until they were aligned underneath Stormfly, mirroring the Nadder's dive in an impressive inverted, nearly vertical, free fall.

"Show off!" he heard Astrid say bitterly, and he smiled to himself.

She may have bested Hiccup in all other things, but there was one area of competition where she just could not excel over him—no one could.

They rushed towards the sea below, and Astrid and Stormfly began to pull out of their dive, but Hiccup and Toothless did not alter their course. Not yet. Instead, at the last possible moment, with just enough clearance, he repositioned Toothless' tail fin again, and they rolled out of the inversion, rapidly ascending as the Night Fury's wing tips barely brushed the surface of the water. Stormfly let out a loud squawk of indignation as Toothless cut in front of her flight path.

_"Hiccup!"_ Astrid snapped.

He glanced back over his shoulder to see his girlfriend's scowl as she wrestled her dragon back under control. He could not help the grin that spread across his face. It was time for Astrid to chase him.

He led her through the sea stacks, gliding gracefully between the towers of rock, and though he had no particular destination in mind, he was confident she would follow wherever he went. He had to admit he enjoyed being pursued, and he knew exactly how he wanted things to end. There was seldom a different resolution to their competitive flights. It was a very simple equation. He loved Astrid, and he loved flying. Both things excited him like nothing else could, albeit in completely different ways, so combining the two had only one inevitable conclusion.

He directed Toothless to the familiar cove where the two of them had so often sought refuge from the rest of the world, especially in those early days where dragons and Viking were still mortal enemies. Astrid was not far behind him, and her dragon landed gracefully in the snow while Hiccup patted Toothless on the side, thanking his best friend for another exhilarating flight. Both Vikings dismounted their dragons, and while his Night Fury's landing had been smooth and uneventful, Hiccup braced himself for the impending crash that followed.

His feet had barely touched the ground before Astrid gripped him by his riding leather and pulled him against her, their lips colliding hard and insistent. It was as if, at any given moment, that invisible tether that connected them grew increasingly taught. Eventually the effort to resist the pull grew too exhausting for both of them, and the release that came with giving into it, crashing in a brilliant explosion of passions and needs, was so sweet and so _right_.

"I'm collecting my winnings," she informed him as they broke apart to catch their breath. "Making good on our little wager."

"Of course," he replied, but he knew there was more to it than that.

As she kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together in a way that had Hiccup forgetting it was even the least bit cold outside, it was apparent that Astrid wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. Their desire was mutual—had always been mutual. Why they had ever bothered to fight it was lost on him. Perhaps they had been scared, all those years ago? Perhaps a part of him always knew how powerless he really was, and always would be around her. After all, how would one come between two colliding stars? How did one stop what was so inevitable once it had already been set in motion? Perhaps he had been intimidated by how seemingly violent and explosive Astrid's affections had come into his life? He did not know then how to handle it all. He had been so foolishly unaware that all he needed to do was let himself go and give into the forces that be, tirelessly drawing them together. He wished that someone had gone against propriety and explained to him what love felt like, but that would have just been so terribly _un_-Viking.

He supposed it really did not matter anymore. He was three and a half years older and wiser than he had been. He understood that he could count on no one else to define what being in love with Astrid would feel like, because no one cared to know those details—but he had the answer if they ever did. To love her was to crash, every day. To crash and burn in a blaze of glory, engulfed in the fire of her affections for him. Perhaps it was just because it was Astrid he loved that describing even sentimental details of their relationship took on an aggressive tone, but he could not care less. He wanted to crash into her—every morning and every evening, and then all of the hours in between.

They were Vikings, after all. If love was not a little bit aggressive, then one simply was not doing it correctly.

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**Author's Note:** The previous chapter, "Letters", was a bit of a departure from what I had been doing with these one-shots, just because I had writer's block something fierce and I needed some variety to pull me out of it. I apologize if it was not to your liking, dear readers. This chapter, I think, gets back to what my original format was. Short, sweet, fluffy one-shots. That's what you're all here for, right?

I must say, I really enjoyed using someone else's word this time around. It was a fun challenge to see what I could do with it. Once again, thank you, ClearBear! To the other reader's whose words I've acknowledged—your time is coming! I promise. I don't have a specific order to how I write these with the exception of maybe one or two chapters—especially the last one I am going to write. That's all I'll say on the subject before I spoil anything.

Also, the more I take turns swapping back and forth between Astrid's POV and Hiccup's POV, I find I enjoy writing Hiccup's perspective a little bit more. Perhaps it's because my Astrid is not as sentimental, so when I write her, I don't get to stretch my romantic legs as much as I do when writing Hiccp? Hmm. That's my daily dose of introspection.

Cheers!


	6. Conflicting

**Author's Note: **All of the positive reviews I have received fill me with warm, fuzzy feelings. You have no idea how much it makes my day. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, favorite/follow me, and just generally be supportive—I'm feeling the love. Writing makes me happy, and to know I am contributing work that entertains and resonates with so many people is deeply rewarding as an amateur author of a whopping, ohh…4 months, now? I'm going to do my best to reciprocate by posting more than one chapter per week, as long as life permits. I'm also still seeking words. My list is ever-changing, dropping and adding words from my own brain—but not the ones I have already agreed to use from readers' suggestions. Those are pretty permanently seated on my list. Feel free to keep suggesting, and I apologize if I offend anyone by not using their words. I would rather use a word I know I can do right than try to fulfill everyone's request.

This chapter explores the idea of assuming different roles, even though they sometimes seem to contradict one another. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: No changes to report.

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As the sun retreated beyond the horizon, bonfires roared to life across the isle of Berk. The days were slowly getting longer, hinting that summer was on its way, but Hiccup anticipated it would still be another month before the snow even began to melt. The cold always stubbornly held on until the last possible moment, trying to strangle the archipelago with its icy grasp—but thankfully, that night was bonfire night. The warmth it brought with it would keep the cold at bay for a few hours, at least.

It was bound to be a better night than the last time he found himself sitting around a massive bonfire with the usual company. For one thing, his heart felt unburden by an overwhleming amount of stress and responsibility that had been suffocating him the last time the bonfires lit up the island. A more significant improvement however, was that he and his lover sat side by side, without the slightest trace of frustration between them to put a damper on the tranquility of the night. In all honesty, Hiccup felt that Astrid's presence was doing more to keep him warm than the roaring tower of flames in front of him. A comfortable silence had settled between them as they watched the flames dance.

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder in a tender gesture that she often reserved for when they were alone—or their friends were too distracted to pay them much attention. In that moment, it was later of the circumstances as Snotlout and the Thortson twins were trying to shove handfuls of snow in each other's faces, while Fishlegs watched with a sort of reluctant amusement.

"We need to find new friends," she whispered and Hiccup laughed softly.

He knew, for all her outward criticism of the other teens, she cared very deeply for them. Astrid had a habit of saying one thing, often derisive, while feeling the complete opposite. It had taken a lifetime of growing up with her to understand her peculiar, often confusing and conflicting form of communication. Whenever she punched him, for instance, it meant she was feeling particularly sentimental, but could not be bothered to convey her feelings through words. Astrid found actions spoke so much louder, although Hiccup had endured the occasional bruise for it.

But it was not just her words and her emotions that were so contradictory.

When it came to Astrid as a whole, there were many things that seemed to conflict about her. For someone as naturally inquisitive as Hiccup was, he enjoyed being with a woman so enigmatic—he loved the intrigue. In many ways, figuring out his girlfriend was just as enjoyable, and even more rewarding, than studying dragons. It was incredible how he could know someone his whole life and there still be so much left he could not quite figure out—so much left to understand.

It was an indisputable fact that Astrid was tough and had spent the majority of her life training to be just as strong as any man on Berk. There were many things about the way she behaved that were masculine in nature, and „lady-like" was not a term compatible with Astrid's fierce, Viking personality. At the same time, the very way she moved with that subtle, alluring swing of her hips, was a testament to her femininity. Though Astrid could be coarse at times, Hiccup was _very_ well acquainted with every smooth, sensual curve of her body that screamed to his senses the undeniability of her womanhood in ways only he was privileged enough to know.

Then there was the harsh way in which she spoke to others, particularly Snotlout and the Twins—judgmental and condescending, with an air of superiority that was not entirely unfounded, given who it was that was frequently causing her such irritation. She used to speak to Hiccup in a similar manner before they had really come to know one another. Since then, she often addressed him with a tone of love, respect, and admiration. It had been a very welcome change for the girl he desired to no longer consider him a complete imbecile, but Astrid still sounded like Astrid to just about everyone else. Her words could be cold, and her criticisms could sting. Fishlegs had more than once described her to be „mean, but in a nice way." Still, Hiccup knew those same lips which could wound even the most stubborn pride were capable of supportive, uplifting speech whenever it was most necessary to those deserving of it. She could be as callous as she could be kind, and perhaps no one knew that better than he did, having experienced both sides of her.

She was also self-confident, almost to a fault. So sure of her skills and abilities, and determined to be second to no one. She was competitive to the point of absurdity, unrelenting in her need to dominate all things, and loath to back down or admit defeat. She needed to feel in control—she wanted that security of knowing she would be able to handle any situation. Well, almost any situation, because she _did_ give in and she _did _submit, to him and only him. When the nights were long, and the flickering candles and the peaceful quiet were the only audience they had to worry about, Astrid gave up all pretense of control. There was no competition in those circumstances, but there had been the occasional insecurities to intrude in on their intimacy. The security in herself dissolved as she found it in him, instead. She found it in his arms, his touch, and the reassurances he would give her that she was his everything—that he needed her with all of the same passion and urgency with which she needed him. That was not to say she turned into a wilting flower in his hands, because Astrid had her desires, and she made them known him. Submissive or not, unsure of herself or not, she had a persistent fire that was impossible to snuff out—not that he ever wanted to do such a terrible thing.

He felt Astrid gently lay a hand on his upper thigh—a seemingly innocent gesture that was suggestive of far less innocent intentions. She immediately had his attention.

"Hiccup, I'm sleeping over at your house tonight,"she informed him.

"I was hoping you would," he replied. "It's starting to feel strange, whenever you aren't there."

She raised her head from his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"I'm starting to run out of excuses to tell my parents," she said, frowning.

"Well, maybe you should just tell them the truth? Tell them you're unable to resist my raw—"

"Hiccup."

"Viking—"

"_Stop_."

"Masculinity."

Astrid stared at him for a moment, and then they both burst out laughing.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself," he apologized, though he was grinning broadly.

"You are such an idiot!" she exclaimed, punching him in the arm.

He interpreted the gesture as amusement at his sarcastic sense of humor.

"You say that, but you don't really mean it," he replied, rubbing his arm where she had playfully struck him.

Astrid rolled her eyes and shook her head before resting it against his shoulder again. He felt her arms wrap around his waist, hugging him closer to her body. She did not need to say anything for him to understand.

"I love you, too," he said softly.

Her only response was to hold him tighter.

There were definitely two sides to Astrid, and they always seemed to be in conflict with one another. There was her aggressive, outward façade that everyone else knew so well, and there was the softer, gentler side that only he could manage to bring out of her—and only when she was sure no one else was around to see it. She was a walking contradiction, and Hiccup could not decide which side of her was her true nature. But then again, when he thought about, he supposed they both were. After all, his relationship with her was much different than the relationship she shared with anyone else on Berk. It was not that her rougher side was a mask she hid behind—because Astrid did not hide. She truly was the fierce young woman everyone knew her to be, but to Hiccup, she had become much more than that. She had learned to be soft, but firm, strong-willed, yet comprising. Equal parts Astrid, his friend, and Astrid, his lover. The two roles were at odds, but she balanced them well, slipping back and forth between them as needed to either love and support him, or give him a swift kick in the pants, when necessary. Both sides were truly Astrid, and he loved them both equally.

* * *

Mornings seemed to come faster than they ever had before, and perhaps that was because Astrid had grown to hate them so. The rising sun meant she had to leave the comfort of her boyfriend's bed, hastily collecting her discarded clothes, while attempting to construct a convincing story to tell her parents, who undoubtedly saw right through her all of her lies. To their credit, they never questioned her further, even if they did know the truth. She figured their leniency was some sort of atonement for nearly forcing her into a miserable arranged marriage—but she appreciated their silence on the issue, regardless of their reasons.

As beams of sunlight peeked in through the gaps between the shutters and the window frame, Astrid groaned and pulled the blanket up over her head. She used to consider herself an early riser, back before she had any particular reason to prefer the night, but things had been different then. That was when she slept alone, trying to convince herself not to dread the thought of laying down beside her ex-fiance every night. She gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of him and cuddled back against Hiccup until his bare chest pressed firmly against her naked back. She reveled in the warmth he provided, and she smiled softly as she felt him pull her even closer.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," she said.

"S'okay," he murmured into her hair.

Astrid rolled over and Hiccup followed her lead, lying flat on his back so she could rest her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to his rhythmic heartbeat, wishing she could stop morning's advance. She wanted to freeze time, just for a little while, because she knew that the daylight hours seldom brought a moment more perfect. It would have been too easy for her to stay there, curled up against him, lulled back to sleep by the warmth of his skin and the steady beating of his heart, but if she allowed that to happen, she was afraid she would never find it within herself to leave. Hiccup was her greatest weakness, and had been for quite sometime.

She found it funny how she was to believe certain qualities were attractive in a man, and yet she had fallen head over heels for someone who was the complete opposite of all of those things, especially for the Chief's son. Hiccup was never pretentious, always courteous, even-tempered, and level-headed. He was highly intelligent, thought before he spoke, had a natural aversion to violence, and almost always put the needs of others before himself. By traditional Viking logic, she should have fallen madly in love with Snotlout or Tuffnut, instead—a thought which caused her stomach to knot unpleasantly. It seemed that Hiccup was a walking contradiction to everything it meant to be a Viking, but Astrid knew that was not true. She had come to understand Hiccup better than anyone else, except Toothless, maybe.

The only thing that still baffled her was how conflicted her boyfriend was over his birthright—his firm resistance to the idea of inheriting the chiefdom, though there was no one else better suited for the job. There were two sides of Hiccup that seemed to constantly battle one another. There was his "carefree, dragon-riding, uncharted island-exploring" self, and his "sense of duty and responsibility to his people" self. The two sides of his personality could not seem to reconcile, no matter what he did or what anyone else said, which only caused him that much more stress. Behind closed doors, Hiccup often confided in her just how much he hated the idea of being chief, and how much it bothered him to be in a position of authority over anyone else. Granted, he _was_ the head of the dragon academy, but if anyone ever asked, he always insisted it was a collaborative effort with no one dragon trainer being more valuable than another. That was just how Hiccup viewed himself—completely unremarkable. To embrace his role as chief would require him to admit he was of a higher status and greater importance than his friends, and such an idea was in direct conflict with his humble and unassuming nature.

Astrid supposed she understood that much—that being chief asked more of Hiccup than he was willing to commit to. What continued to confuse her however, was just how adept at leadership someone so resistant to the idea could be. He ardently confessed his disinterest in the chiefdom to her, but as he walked around Berk, shadowing his father, he seemed every bit the future chief he was being groomed into. There was a confidence and a dignified air about him that commanded the respect and admiration he claimed he did not want. His words told her one thing, but his actions said another. Perhaps he really was just that unaware of how natural he seemed at it, even if it was just a façade? At any rate, he would seek relief from his daily act as he disappeared with Toothless for hours at a time.

It did not bother Astrid that Hiccup needed his personal excursions as sort of a mental vacation from the responsibilities that smothered him. He always returned to her and seemed to be in a better mood for it, so how could she complain? She knew, given his choice, he would do nothing more in life than explore the world with Toothless. Hiccup was a dreamer, after all. When not preoccupied with his training, he wandered around distracted by thoughts of his latest project, or daydreaming about his next opportunity to fly with Toothless. He hated to be tied down, and so his responsibilities to Berk were a burden to him, conflicting with his innermost desires for freedom. At the same time, it was just like Hiccup so be so selfless that he put his own wants and needs second to whatever his people asked of him. He always seemed so torn, the urge to speak his mind barely choked back by an overwhelming sense of duty to Berk. Astrid could only imagine the inner turmoil that constantly raged inside of him—who he really was conflicting with who he was expected to be, and who he wanted to be conflicting with who he was inevitably becoming. It was probably as confusing to watch him go through it as it was for him to actually be living it. Astrid felt nothing but sympathy for him, praying that she could be the comfort and support he desperately needed.

She glanced up at him, smiling fondly when she realized he had drifted back to sleep. He looked so peaceful, which was rare for him in the recent months. She hated to wake him, but she knew they could not linger in that all-too-inviting bed much longer. Reluctantly, she leaned up and kissed him, feeling a twinge of guilt as his eyes fluttered open, but he did not seem the least bit annoyed with her.

"Sorry," she whispered apologetically.

"I don't mind," he replied, reaching up to run his fingers through her hair; she had let it loose from her braids in the throes of passion during the night.

"I have to go in a minute," she said, sitting up beside him.

He frowned and she could see the hesitancy on his face. He was expected to follow Stoick around that day, making preparations for Thawfest in a few weeks. Once they left that bedroom, he had to become so many things to so many people, and Astrid could understand why he did not want to move.

"Stay with me. Just for a little while longer," he said, and Astrid was not surprised at his request.

"You know we can't stay hidden away in here forever," she told him.

He sat up as well, gazing into her eyes, and Astrid really wished he would not. It was hard enough to resist him without the extra touch of intimacy.

"I don't mean to stay in bed all day. Toothless would never let me," he replied. "But for now, just give me a little more time."

"For what?"

"Being myself."

Damn Hiccup and his words. Astrid had never met anybody else who could use them so effectively against her. She did not put up even the tiniest struggle as he kissed her deeply, pulling her into his arms. She wanted to be his refuge, because there was little else she felt she could do for him. His problems were so much greater than her, that any advice she gave him just seemed worthless, though Hiccup never implied as much. If her love alone would give him some small measure of peace from the inner conflict that raged within him, Astrid would do anything he asked of her.

Even if it meant she might not emerge from his bedroom until midday.

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**Author's Note**: So, my dear editor and I went to the movies the other day, and in the lobby was a large cut-out promo poster of Hiccup riding Toothless with his flame sword drawn—I'm sure most of you are familiar with the image I'm talking about. Anyway, I am not ashamed to admit to the fangirl squeal that came out of my mouth as I shook my editor violently, exclaiming, "_Look! Look at it!"_ At which point he simply laughed at me, and then I told him to shut his face and not to judge me. I'm far too excited for this movie than I have any right to be, y'all. I_ will_ be going to see it in IMAX 3D on opening day! Badass!

Nashville, Tennessee anyone? Anyone? Maybe you'll see me there. ;-)


	7. Memories

**Author's Note: **I saw the new global trailer for HTTYD2 that premiered today, and I nearly combusted with excitement. It looks. So. GOOD. June cannot come fast enough. I'm screaming like a fangirl on the inside. Feels. So many, many feels for this movie—and I've only watched the trailers. *sigh* Well played, Dreamworks. Now shut up, and take my money.

I know fanfiction obviously takes liberties with the source material, but I've tried to respect the canon as much as possible, knowing that the movie hasn't been released yet and it will undoubtedly offer different explanations on Hiccup's flame sword, his and Astrid's relationship, and some other details I've written about. That being said, my respect for the canon is why I try to stay with a consistent timeline post TV show and pre HTTYD2, and why I won't write about a proposal/marriage between Hiccup and Astrid in my fanfiction, even though I have received a few requests to do as much. You see, I intend to continue my established continuity after the release of the second movie (unless I'm already so far off)—so I don't want to stray so far from canon that I can't recover from it, knowing I will already have to tweak and fudge over a few details included in my previous works to return closer to the established canon. I'm already going to go back through my work and edit some of the time references, since I'm apparently off by a year. *sigh*

Does anybody but me care that much? No? Okay. Sorry for rambling, then. I'll give you your Hiccstrid fluff now.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own HTTYD or anything officially pertaining to it...but someday I _will_ own it all...on DVD/Blu-ray. :)

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If there was one thing Hiccup often told Astrid, it was that he had been attracted to her as far back as he could remember. Though it was the truth, he had never really considered what that meant exactly, since he did not bother to reflect much on the past as a general rule. His youth was not particularly full of things worth remembering, and so he liked to make a point of living in the present. Life was just so much better for him there. Memories were funny things, however—triggered by the most insignificant sights, smells, and textures. They could lie dormant for years and then strike without warning, assaulting a person with an unwelcome spectrum of emotions. Hiccup had not anticipated that something as simple as eating a meal with his friends would suddenly pull him back through years past, to the more forgotten reaches of his subconscious.

It had started with a just a simple question:

"For someone as light on their feet as you, Astrid, you really expect me to believe you can't dance?" Ruffnut asked, rolling her eyes.

"I never said I_ couldn't_…just that I prefer not to," Astrid corrected her. "I really have to be in a…_festive_ mood."

"Drunk. She means drunk," Tuffnut snickered.

That was all it had taken, and then Hiccup was suddenly four years old again, at the first Snoggletog celebration his memory could recreate. The details were fuzzy, comprising mostly of vague colors and shapes. There was music of course, but it was an indistinct tune faded over nearly fourteen years of life experiences. There was some inviting aroma wafting through the air, but his brain could not place it, most likely because at five years old, he would not have been as aware. The only thing he could make out for certain was a very young, tiny Astrid. The mental image was soft and dream-like, but Hiccup supposed some memories lost their potency over time.

He was watching her dance, standing on her father's boots as he guided her around their small little corner of the Great Hall to the tuneless music muffled by his fading recollection of it. She was laughing gleefully, eyes alight with wonderment at the festival lanterns glowing above her. Her father maneuvered her off of his feet so that he could twirl her around slowly, but it was all still so thrilling for such a small girl. She beamed up at her father who chuckled fondly, and that was the first time Hiccup had seen Astrid Hofferson smile.

He felt a firm hand on his little shoulder, and he looked up at gigantic figure with a firey red beard.

"Why don't yeh go say 'hi', son?" Stoick asked.

Hiccup shook his head vigorously, clinging to father's tunic. He could not explain it, but there was something about the blonde that intimidated him—or perhaps that was just all girls, general. They were such strange and alien creatures, after all.

As he watched Astrid dance around, he noticed how her hair seemed to shine in the golden glow of the festival lights. Maybe if he ever did get the chance to speak to her, he would tell her how much he liked her braids. He did not know why he wanted to tell her such a thing, but all he knew is that she was pretty, in a frightening sort of way—like fire or distant lightning storms.

But then they were seven, and Astrid was testing out her brand new child's axe on some poor, unfortunate fir trees in the middle of a particularly bright summer's day. Hiccup could recall insects chirping and the warm breeze against his skin. The sunlight flashed almost blindingly off the curved blades of the axe head as Astrid threw the weapon at her nearest target. Though they had been dulled to prevent unintended injuries, as children's weapons often were, she was still gouging deep marks into the sturdy trunks of the mighty firs. The impact of the blade against the trees echoed loudly in his memory, amplified by youthful perceptions skewed by admiration for an unobtainable goal with long, blonde hair.

Her father and his father stood nearby, positively remarking on the impressive skills of such a young girl. His own father spoke about Astrid in a way he never spoke about him, but Hiccup believed Astrid deserved it. There was no amount of praise the beautiful young Viking did not derserve, in his biased opinion.

"She is goin' te be a handful fer yeh," Stoick chuckled. "I would hate te be the dragon unlucky enough te cross her path."

Hiccup reached up and tugged at his father's tunic.

"Dad. Can I have an axe?" he asked eagerly.

Stoick glanced down at him dubiously, raising his bushy eyebrows.

"As soon as yeh can lift one, son," he replied.

The two men chuckled and turned their backs to him once more, treating him with the sort of mild indifference he was getting used to receiving. In the inaccuracies of childhood memories, their towering forms completely eclipsed the summer sun. Hiccup inched around the two broad Vikings to catch another glimpse of Astrid, looking fiercely beautiful as she raised her axe above her head, preparing to throw it again. She was like a Valkyrie, to be both admired and feared. He did not request an axe from his father with any real interest in learning to use it. He hoped that, if nothing else, it would give him some kind of excuse to talk to Astrid—and maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky enough, she would want to talk to him.

But then they were ten, and Hiccup was more or less convinced the girl of his dreams could not stand him. If he caught her eye, she would roll hers and look away. If he attempted to speak to her, she would hold up a hand in his face and keep on walking. To try to communicate with Astrid was like running headlong into a wall, or pushing with all one's might against a completely stationary and immoveable object. He did not know which was worse, the daily dose of mockery from the other children in the village, or the cold shoulder he regularly endured from Astrid. Both were painful, but for very different reasons.

The winter snowstorms had finally eased up in the recent weeks, leaving a fresh blanket of snow perfect for snowball fights to which he was never invited, naturally. Instead, he watched from his bedroom window as the other kids played atop the hill beside his house. He could feel the cold draft creeping through his memory, reaching through time to embrace him with a miserable cold equal only to the bitter sting of his loneliness. In his lap rested a book full of empty pages which would soon be filled with sketches for various dragon-slaying inventions. He had made it himself, in the isolation his bedroom provided. After all, he had the time and he had the solitude. He had only just started apprenticing at Gobber's smithy, and though the man intimidated him, he hoped to learn a few things that would help him overcome his physical shortcomings, and maybe earn some recognition around Berk—and from Astrid.

He glanced down at his sketchbook, the weight of the pages still so vivid in his mind. His charcoal pencil poised to start drawing, a million ideas swirling back and forth between the consciousness of past and present, but he was interrupted by a snowball that exploded against his window frame, spraying him with freezing powder.

"Ugh! You missed!" Ruffnut exclaimed as her brother dipped down to form another snowball.

"I'll get him this time," Tuffnut replied, lobbing it at him

Hiccup watched as the snowball fell short, bursting several inches below his window.

"Nice! You might actually hit me at this rate!" he called sarcastically to the Thortson Twins.

As both siblings scrambled to form more snowballs, Hiccup noticed Astrid and Snotlout walking side by side, holding hands. The sight made his stomach churn. Snotlout said something that made Astrid roll her eyes, and when he leaned into kiss her, she resisted him, yanking her hand away and giving him a harsh shove. As she stormed off, leaving Snotlout looking dumbfounded, Hiccup felt a surge of anger that rippled through his soul to the present day. Even though Astrid had rejected his cousin, Snotlout _knew_ Hiccup had feelings for her. Maybe the other boy actually did care about Astrid too, but Hiccup was convinced half of it was just to torment him further—or perhaps he had been projecting current irritations back through time to fill gaps in his memory? Either way, the outcome had been the same.

He leapt to his feet and slammed the window shutters closed, just as two snowballs collided with the outside. He could hear the Twins' disappointed groans echoing across the hilltop.

Then suddenly they were fifteen, and Hiccup was sitting beside Astrid in the hidden cove that had more or less become "their place." It was where he had told her about Toothless, and where their romance had first been set in motion, returning from a romantic first flight together. Past or present, it was impossible not to feel lingering desire when visiting the cove, either in person or in a distant memory. That particular day, three and a half years expired, the two of them had flown their dragons there for a little peace and quiet from the mayhem the other teens brought with them. While they were all so close, especially with dragons to unite them in a common interest, there was no denying the connection between himself and Astrid had always been strongest. No passage of time could ever dissolve that from his memory.

Astrid leaned over to remove a piece of bread from Stormfly's saddlebag. She broke it apart and handed half of it to Hiccup. Their fingers brushed, and it had been as electrifying then as it was to recall it years later. While memories could be exaggerated, there was the occasional details Hiccup knew remained unaltered.

What he could not recall however, was the content of their conversation, but he supposed he had not committed the scene to memory for that reason. Perhaps it was not what had been spoken between them that was important, but rather all the subtle nonverbal nuances that stood out to his teenage brain. He could not remember Astrid's words, but he could hear her laughter clearly, reverberating through the years. It did not matter what he had said to earn that response from her. Instead, he could not forget how closely they sat to one another, or how she leaned in towards him when he spoke. There was a softness in her eyes, real or imagined, that she still reserved for him alone. Perhaps he _had_ transposed it there on her fifteen-year-old face, but it was no less appropriate in the tenderness of the moment long passed.

It had all happened before they had drifted apart, and while the memory should have been a happy one, instead it filled him with nothing but regret—as all of them did, when he reflected upon it. He had so many wasted opportunities to tell Astrid how he felt about her, whether she had reciprocated or not. At least she would have known, saving them future heartache, because the two of them, as a couple, was inevitable. As the scene played out in his brain, he could not help but feel the impending stab of pain his younger self was blissfully unaware was coming—for that day had been the beginning of the end of their friendship as they knew it. While it would eventually evolve into something much sweeter, there were three years of hurt and bitterness stretched out ahead of them. The impending storm of conflict was reflected in the gathering of ominous gray clouds, and the distant roll of thunder that darkened what should have been an otherwise cheerful memory.

"I'm really glad I have you, Astrid," he had told her. "You're the best friend I've got—"

Toothless gave an indignant snort.

" –that isn't a gigantic flying reptile," he corrected, and the Night Fury accepted the distinction.

She smiled softly at him and he could not help but return it. She leaned and kissed him on the cheek, and after she had crushed their lips together in front of the entire village on more than one occasion, such a chaste gesture suddenly felt inadequate, both then and to his present self.

But then they were eighteen again, and Hiccup was in the present, attempting to ward of the ghosts of faded memories and what seemed like a lifetime of regrets. Astrid was dragging him along through the middle of the village under the cover of night. The two of them were laughing, having imbibed a little too much mead at dinner, and they were still enjoying the effects of it. They had managed to slip out of the Great Hall, undetected by her parents, which was remarkable given how intoxicated they both were. Hiccup did not often drink, but he had made the mistake of trying to keep pace with Astrid that night—or had he done it to put up a veil of inebriation between himself and his heartache over wasted moments past? He did not know what their friends were doing at the moment, or what the outcome of Tuffnut and Snotlout's arm wrestling match had been, but he could not find it in himself to care. All that mattered was Astrid had him by the hand, and he was willing to follow her anywhere she wanted to go.

"Shhhh!" Hiccup hissed between chuckles, as Astrid giggled loudly. "Do you want _everyone_ to know?"

Astrid stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a slightly glazed look in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.

"Everyone _already_ knows," she whispered against his lips.

Hiccup smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Know what? How improper you are?" he teased.

"They know how improper _you_ are!" she retorted, punching him in the shoulder.

They laughed a little more, pressing their foreheads together. It felt like the world was spinning, and Hiccup was not sure if he was feeling lightheaded from the alcohol, or from Astrid. He could honestly get drunk off both.

"Hey," he said quietly, taking her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. "I'm not sure if I've told you this lately…"

"Told me what?" she asked, pressing her body into his.

"I've loved you for as far back as I can remember," he replied.

"And how long is that?"

"Thirteen years, give or take," he answered, with a shrug.

Astrid gently cupped his face in her hands and said, "Well, here's to at least another thirteen more."

They kissed again, even deeper than before, and Hiccup tried to commit every texture, every sensation to memory. The way her lips tasted and the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips were not things that should ever be forgotten, lost through the cracks in his subconscious. He did not fully understand what made lasting memories and what did not, but he would have tried anything to sear that moment into his brain forever. After all of the mistakes he had made, he desperately needed the addition of newer, sweeter memories to serve as a counterbalance to his bitterness and remorse for the time lost with Astrid, by no fault of anything other than his own cowardice and stupidity.

He did not know why it was that the painful memories that lingered behind, serving no other purpose to push him off the cliff of regret and melancholy—but as Astrid was his poison, surely she could be his remedy, one hour of one day at a time. Until nothing remained but the deepest satisfaction and fulfillment a life with her could bring him. When he reflected back on their time together, he wanted wasted opportunities to fade into feeble phantoms obscured by the overwhelming happiness and affection compiled by years of making up for lost time. But there could be no guarantee of that. After all, memory was a funny, fickle thing.

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**Author's Note**: Another week posting two chapters! Woop, woop! I love being productive. Anyway, I tried something different with this chapter, too. Just like "Letters". Whenever I get stuck on a current chapter for more than ¾ a day, I strike it completely or set it aside and go on to something different. Usually a complete change of pace is the kick in the pants that I need. So, that's how you end up with a chapter written mostly in flashbacks! :)

**EDIT:** So, it's kind of ironic that I posted this chapter with the initial author's note of trying to stay true to the canon, because now I have been forced to make a regretful edit. I feel so compelled to follow the canon as closely as I can while still retaining some original ideas. That being said, I discovered that Valka, Hiccup's mother, went missing from Berk 20 years ago from the start of the HTTYD2 movie- which means Hiccup would not have any recollection of her. I guess I should have anticipated as much, since she said "You were only a babe..." in the trailer, but I guess I did not take that quite as literally as I should have. Anyway, I had to edit out the part in Hiccup's first flashback where Valka was trying to encourage him. Damn. I really should get my canonical facts straight, but I'm afraid of spoiling too much for myself if I go digging around. The trailers are spoilerific enough for me.


	8. Strength

**Author's Note: **So, this was the chapter I have been stuck on for the majority of yesterday before finally setting it aside for "Memories", which I confess to enjoying a lot more, from a writing standpoint. The majority of this was completed already, so I just went back and did what I could with it, feeling it would be a shame to scrap it completely. Hopefully y'all like it and aren't nearly as "meh" about the whole things as I am. Maybe I'm just jaded from the writer's block it gave me? I'm hoping that's all it is.

**Disclaimer**: Stuff n' things of some kind of legal importance.

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It was old news by that point. Everyone knew Astrid was tougher than her boyfriend. That had been no big secret, so she did not understand why Snotlout was still amused by the idea. Perhaps it was just because he was Snotlout, and Hiccup was Hiccup, and there was something about their personalities that conflicted on a very fundamental level? It kept them in a perpetual state of rivalry, or else a reluctant and often strained camaraderie. Over the years, Hiccup had built up a sort of tolerance for his cousin's overwhelming idiocy, and he often had to talk Astrid down from wrapping her slender fingers around Snotlout's thick throat on his behalf. On top of Hiccup's seemingly boundless patience, he had also had an inherently self-deprecating sense of humor, which kept criticisms and snide remarks of his physical appearance from bothering him too much.

"I honestly don't care," he told her as they strolled out of the academy together; Fishlegs had just wrapped up another lesson. "And I wish you wouldn't."

"But you're _not_ weak and Snotlout is a moron," she insisted.

"No, you're right. I'm a paragon of unparalleled Viking strength," he replied sarcastically.

"Hiccup," she groaned in exasperation.

"Look, Astrid. I've come a long way, I'll give you that, but we both know I won't be winning any arm-wrestling or hammer-throwing contests around here, anytime soon. And you know what?"

"Hiccup—"

"I'm _okay_ with that. I have other methods of accomplishing things—ones that don't require the abundant use of my fists."

Astrid sighed heavily, linking an arm with his as they made their way back towards the village proper. They were on their way to the Great Hall because Hiccup wanted to discuss with his father some ideas he had on how to better improve the efficiency of their patrols along the archipelago, and Astrid could not think of anywhere else she would rather be if it were not by his side. The two of them, already so close and so hopelessly in love, were becoming inseparable whenever Hiccup's feet were on the ground. It was making it harder to maintain the pretense that they did _not_ already have extensive carnal knowledge of each other—though village certainly had its suspicions.

As they made their way up the stairs towards the Great Hall, Astrid was slightly distracted by the clinking of Hiccup's prosthetic against the stone with every other step that he took. She often forgot he even had the thing, not that it bothered her. He was just so nonchalant about it that it was rarely the topic of conversation, unlike the other Vikings she knew who were missing some of their limbs. They never ceased complain about their aches and pains, but Hiccup had never joined in on the self-pity. He did not see the point in it. That was not to say he was not, or never had been, in a significant amount of pain. Astrid could recall, immediately after the amputation, Hiccup limped around for Berk about a week, adjusting to the new leg Gobber had so generously fitted him with. He would wince or swear under his breath when he thought no one could hear him, but every time Astrid had asked him if he was hurting, he would deny it. It had to have been killing him though, both physically and emotionally, but he never would confess any of that to her—not then, and not in the present, though she knew he suffered a lot less as time had passed, and he had become much better at managing the discomfort. It probably helped that he had finally upgraded his prosthetic to a model that seemed much more ergonomically designed, and better suited to his particular needs.

Astrid admired him for it, she had to admit. Not that she envied any loss of limb, but Hiccup's attitude about the whole experience was inspiring. It all could have been avoided if his father had simply listened to his warning about the Red Death lying in wait on Dragon Island. Perhaps a different solution could have been found—one in which Hiccup could have remained wholly intact. Still, Hiccup did not blame Stoick for anything. Nor did he find it the least bit remarkable that he had suffered such sacrifice and personal injury for a village of people who had shunned and despised him for nearly his entire life. When Astrid had asked him about it, he had simply shrugged and said he was doing what needed to be done, and there was nothing more special about his actions than that. He neither expected nor desired any kind of praise or admiration for what he had done, though people gave it to him freely now that he had nearly been killed for them. If there was anyone who had the right to be bitter and hold a grudge, it was Hiccup, but he chose not to do so. He had long since forgiven their people for the years of mistreatment he had suffered at their hands, and he had since come to deeply love the village of Vikings that had once hated him so fiercely.

Astrid knew his strength went deeper still. As the future chief, people were relying on him, and there had been several instances over the years were Berk had encountered a crisis. Whether it had been Dagur the Deranged, Alvin the Treacherous, or the Screaming Death, Hiccup had risen to the challenge. While everyone went hysterical around him, especially Fishlegs, Hiccup remained calm and collected. The more things fell apart, the more he kept it together for everyone else, regardless if he felt any internal panic. He would always have the answers, and he would always have the solutions. He was keystone that kept Berk standing—more so than the dragons, and more so than even his own father. Stoick the Vast and the elder men on Berk were relics of a bygone era where swords and shields and fists were all one needed to be victorious, but the times were shifting. Berk needed a chief that could adapt to any problem—someone who was well-rounded, with a level head and even temper. Hiccup was all of those things. Gentle in his approach but unshakeable in his resolve, unaffected by petty criticisms and the judgments of others. He may not have been the burliest Viking on Berk, but he was every bit as bold and unyielding in the strength of his spirit.

It took someone with a great deal of mental and emotional fortitude to take on the burden of leadership without cracking under the stress, especially when he was such a reluctant chief. Astrid had the reputation of being the stronger one in the relationship, but that was only taking the two of them at surface value. She could not do what Hiccup had done. She could not be the constant pillar of support for an entire village. The pressure would have crushed her, while Hiccup continued to stand tall in spite of it. She had experienced her share of personal crises, and it had been Hiccup's steady, unwavering support that had kept her grounded and sane. She did not know if it was a choice, or if it was an automatic response, but Hiccup did not hesitate to shoulder her burdens, lifting them both up through the turmoil. She could not have made it so far without him, her inner fire still blazing proudly. It would have been snuffed out years ago had he not been there to protect it and to occasionally stoke the flames. He did not think highly of himself for it however, because it was simply what needed to be done in his eyes.

Perhaps that was why very few people dared to challenge him outright? Snotlout, while unrelenting in his verbal assaults, had long since withheld any kind of physical battery of his cousin. It was not that he, nor anyone else, believed Hiccup to be some secret and untapped well of Viking muscle. Instead, it was the sense of strength he exuded from his very soul that commanded some measure respect. While he was still made of flesh and bone, which could bruise and fracture, he spirit was immutable. Hiccup could not be broken.

_That_ was real strength, muscles be damned.

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**Author's Note**: Er. Mah. Gerd. 3 chapters? Now I'm just spoiling y'all.

Kidding. This one's kind of short, anyway. Brevity is the soul of wit...and also the mark of laziness.

More like I'm trying to wrap up this neat little project so I can move on to my next full length story with hopes of finishing it before HTTYD2 comes out. To my editor: Maybe I should stop running my ideas by you? Somehow, they keep turning in to fully developed fanfics. Ain't nobody got time for that!

Except me. Apparently.

Next chapter will be "Trees" for MorganPines8998. It won't be posted before next week, though…I work weekend night shifts because that's just what happens when you're at the bottom of the workplace pecking order. D,:

Oh, and please review! It helps get me through my work "week". :)


	9. Trees

**Author's Note**: I think the chapters from here on out are going to be shorter. While I hope they are still up to the standard you all have come to expect from me, I don't know if every word I use from here on out is going to produce a substantial body of text, but hopefully quality is maintained over quantity.

Also, I…I think I'm blurring the lines between T and M a little here—but only a little. I hardly think anything that follows can be considered explicit. I am purposefully vague, you guys!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own HTTYD.

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Astrid gazed up at the sunlight that flickered and danced between the leaves of the trees as their branches swayed overhead. Summer had finally returned to Berk and with it came the birds, whose cheerful songs broke up the monotonous still and quiet of the colder months. It also brought a sense of life back to the village, thawing the industrious Viking spirit of Berk, which seemed to hibernate as soon as the ice and snow set in after the year's final harvest. She, personally, could not resist the pleasant weather's allure, itching to be outdoors as much as possible before the thieving hands of winter returned to steal all traces of warmth and greenery from the island.

Well, not _all_ things green.

Hiccup was staring down at her as she lie stretched out on the grass with her head in his lap. Her bright blue eyes met his deep green ones, and they shared a tender smile. It was refreshing to spend a quiet moment together outside of the privacy of his bedroom. They could not be that openly affectionate around the village without inviting mockery and disgust, so they retreated to a rocky outcropping topped with a densely packed tree line. There, the only intrusion on their intimacy they worried about was the occasional growl or snort from their dragons as they basked together in the sunlight. Unlike Toothless and Stormfly, Hiccup and Astrid had preferred the shade, seeking refuge beneath a cluster of birch trees sprinkled in between the countless assortment of spruces and larches that decorated Berk.

Trees were not something Astrid gave much thought to, even though she had regularly used them for target practice. Which sturdy fir tree could best withstand her axe was about as much consideration as she usually gave them, but as the leaves rustled to the tune of the summer winds, she gained a greater appreciation for them.

When she really stopped to think about it, she supposed trees were truly remarkable things. They could grow several meters high into such mighty things from just a tiny seed. They could grow in rough terrain, and survive in the bleakest of environments. There were many different kinds, but they all served their purpose, providing life sustaining food and shelter to a variety of species. Their roots often went deep, anchoring them in place through the most brutal of storms and gales that battered them so they continued to stand, defiant. They could endure for centuries, bearing witness to the history of both people and places. If the trees on Berk could talk, Astrid was sure they would certainly have some stories to tell. But the best compliment she could give to trees was that they were as useful in death as they had been in life—providing firewood for cooking and for warmth, and raw building materials for numerous things that were integral to their Viking culture; houses, ships, shields, and catapults—just to name a few. All essential.

The traits that made trees such powerful yet unassuming things could be attributed to something else that Astrid knew well. It was something that could not be seen or measured—not directly, but it was no less real and incredible. She sighed contently and reached up for her lover. Hiccup took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to softly kiss each of her fingertips in a way that made Astrid's heart beat faster. She loved him. Odin, help her, she loved him so deeply. While it could not manifest as something tangible, like a birch tree, she still sought shelter beneath it. It still provided her life-sustaining comfort and refuge, for home was wherever Hiccup happened to be. It weathered storms, and they had certainly suffered their share of them, and yet they still stood together, tall and proud, firmly rooted in their affections for one another. Theirs was a love that had begun from just a tiny spark, set in motion by the most innocent of intentions, but it had evolved into something deep and boundless, it could withstand just about anything. It thrived no matter what the environment, be it the arid landscape of physical separation, or the frozen slopes of occasional misunderstandings. It was enduring and it was eternal, even long after they had departed from the mortal world, those who remained behind would be able to testify to the love they had shared.

Astrid smirked, feeling foolish over the terribly mushy mental comparison she had just made—equating love to trees, of all things. Hiccup quirked an eyebrow at her inquisitively and she just shook her head.

"I just reminded myself why I rarely bother with sentimental nonsense," she told him.

"Because you were born with some kind of emotional handicap?" he asked, sarcastically.

Astrid could not effectively punch him with her head resting in her lap, so she prodded him in the stomach, instead. He just laughed softly.

"No. Because I'm terrible at it," she replied, frowning.

"We all have our weaknesses, but don't worry. I still love you," he teased.

Astrid wrinkled her nose up at him, and Hiccup smiled in that affectionate way reserved just for her. It made her insides melt a little, and she wondered if he knew the kind of effect he had on her. She seriously doubted it, though. He was much too humble to assume such things.

She sat up on her knees beside him and he reached out to play with her braid, tracing the length of it with his fingertips. The simple, tender gesture made her shiver, or perhaps it was the breeze as it blew through the trees? Either way, it did not matter, because suddenly they were kissing, and she could not really recall who had initiated it. But that was not important as she found herself being eased down onto the grass, Hiccup lying gently on top of her.

As his lips wandered down to her neck, Astrid gazed up at the trees that sheltered them. The branches creaked and groaned as they swayed overhead. The leaves trembled furiously as they were whipped about by the summer winds, hissing their protest. They were making quite a ruckus, but if trees were the only audience they had to worry about, she did not mind. After all, one downside to living on an island of dragon-riding Vikings was that there were few places left on Berk that were truly remote. It was getting all too easy to be intruded in on from above, but the trees appeared to be on their side. The branches fanned out in a protective canopy that not only shielded them from the bright summer sun, but also any unwanted attention from the sky. Thanks to the trees they did not have to keep glancing cautiously above them. Thanks to the trees they could share a moment alone. In exchange, the trees would gain yet another story to tell, safely locked away in their enduring silence.

Perhaps it had not been such a ridiculous concept after all, to find trees to be so poetic. They had their strengths and they had their mysteries. They were timeless creations, existing before Vikings had set foot on Berk, and they would remain long after Vikings had gone. They could be chopped down, only to grow back—as stubborn and firmly rooted to their homeland as any Viking Astrid knew. How appropriate it was then, to compare love to something so steadfast and resolute.

One thing was for sure, as Hiccup's hands traveled up her thighs at a tortuous pace—they did not need any other witnesses for what was about to transpire there, between them. When his hands gripped the top of her leggings, slowly easing them down, there was only one thought that resonated through the forefront of her mind:

Thank Odin for the trees.

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**Author's Note:** "Trees" for MorganPines8998. As far as my one-shots go, this is less deep character analysis and more pointless fluff…smut?...smutty fluff?...Smluff? Yeah. I'll go with that. I am a fan of occasional smluff. Forgive me if you were expecting something deep and poignant, but my brain needed a bit of a break on this chapter. This one kind of stumped me.

Ha. Haha. No pun intended, I swear….ha, tree humor.

How apropos that I am currently listening to "Timber" by Pitbull and Ke$ha on my iPod. True story.


	10. Wanderlust & Exploration

**Author's Note:** I was stuck between two words for this chapter, and I was trying to decide which one would actually be more appropriate—but then I realized, they both worked very well for what I was going for. So, here I am, kind of bending my own rules a bit, but this chapter will be focusing on two words, each contributing to the same overall concept.

This chapter also gets a little steamy towards the end, but I still think it's nothing explicit. More just, uh…sensual? Sorry if someone gets offended by two consenting adults engaging in a mutual expression of physical love, but in my mind, I'm still rocking a T rating here. I know I'm tip-toeing right on the line by this site's standards, though. In fact, my previous fic, _Vetrnaetr, _was rated M, and I really think that should be rated T, save for like one F-bomb and maybe one scene where Ruffnut was being particularly lewd. Honestly though, I think that was all pretty tame. Maybe I'm just jaded?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own—you know the rest.

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Hiccup folded up his hand-drawn map of the archipelago, watching the setting sun first touch the horizon, far off across the sea. He had not intended to be away from home for so long, but the allure of uncharted islands called out to him like the haunting _nøkken_* songs. He was powerless against the irresistible drive deep within him—the unrelenting need for freedom that drove him past the established boundaries of the forefathers. There was an entire world outside of Berk that their people hardly knew of, except from the tales woven by the traders and merchants that would come to port. Hiccup was not content to spend the rest of his life ignorant of what was waiting beyond the edges of his map. That may have been enough for his people back when the threat of dragons kept them confined to their island, but the world had since changed. The relationship between dragons and Vikings had changed. They now had the means to satisfy the need for exploration—for expanding their knowledge of the world. There was no longer the excuse to limit themselves.

"I'm going to run off the edge of the parchment pretty soon," he told Toothless, tucking his map up under his riding leather. "I'll have to figure out some way to expand on it."

Toothless warbled softly in response.

"Of course I don't plan on stopping," Hiccup replied with a frown. "Would you?"

The Night Fury growled in the back of his throat.

"That's what I thought," Hiccup said, climbing back into the saddle.

After locking his prosthetic into place, he gave one last lingering glance at his surroundings. The particular island he stumbled upon was very rocky, sparsely wooded, and bearing no new dragon species to speak of. While it was always an accomplishment to chart new territory, he was no less disappointed in the lack of discovery it yielded.

"Let's go home, bud," he said to Toothless, patting the dragon on his side.

Toothless seemed more than happy to take to the sky again, feeling as equally free and uninhibited as Hiccup did while they flew amongst the clouds. Hiccup figured that was how his constant need for freedom had started. Toothless had been his escape from the stress and the woes of being the village outcast turned celebrity those four short years ago. It had been so overwhelming to maintain his all of his lies back then, but as he soared over Berk, for a moment he could forget everything that weighed down his soul. He had developed the addiction then and it persisted into adulthood—an insatiable wanderlust birthed from the tremendous escapism that came with riding dragons. Ever since he had first navigated the sea stacks on Toothless' back, the two of them obtaining unparalleled mental synchronicity, he knew what his purpose in life was. He was compelled to fly by every fiber of his being screaming out to him. How could his father have come to expect anything different from him? How could _anyone_ on Berk deny him his calling?

He only hoped his tribe could understand. It was not that he harbored any dislike for his village. On the contrary, of all the places he had traveled to, Berk still surpassed them in his mind. He did not know what it was about his homeland that was so comforting—perhaps it was the mighty sea stacks or the gentle, rolling pastoral hills? It very well could have been the sandy beaches or the mountain that towered over his sturdy village. In the end, he supposed it did not really matter. Berk could draw him home as many times as it wanted, but it would never be too long before the unknown cried out to him again.

He had to answer that call. It was a compulsion that bordered on obsession. He had to seek out new lands and new dragons. He had to find, to explore, to _know_. It troubled him how much his most ardent desire for freedom conflicted with his duty to lead. His father seemed to expect him to grow out of his "phase" as if it was some rebellious teenage whim, but Hiccup did not know if he _could_. How did one "grow out" of their deeply rooted sense of self and purpose? How could he abandon his wanderlust, which kept him sane and grounded as he juggled so much responsibility along with the pursuit of personal freedom? What was to become of him if he gave up on all that he was—for his wanderlust was not an addiction of the body, or even of the mind. It was an addiction of the soul.

But he would always come back to Berk, no matter how far he traveled or how long he planned on being gone. He could try to deny it, but even as the world got bigger, Berk continued to be the center of his expanding universe, and Astrid was the anchoring point that kept it there. She was an addiction more powerful even than his desire to fly, more deeply embedded in his heart than the need for freedom. She was the reason he could never leave indefinitely—pack it all up and disappear off the edge of the map with Toothless. Astrid was home, and even he needed a place to belong—so he urged Toothless on, racing with the setting sun. He knew he would not reach Berk until well past nightfall, but he dared to hope Astrid would still be awake upon his return. The wanderlust was still raging inside of him, but he sought exploration and discovery of a different kind.

He would have thought memorizing every contour of Astrid's body meant there was nothing left to learn, but that could not be further from the truth. For one, his mind, brilliant as he was, could not recreate the sensation of her skin beneath his fingers within enough accuracy to satisfy him. He needed to touch her, to rediscover how she felt beneath his hands. He needed to map out again and again each erogenous zone and recommit to memory the sound of his name on her lips. There was nothing in the world more enticing than the thought of exploring the woman he loved, though he had done it a hundred times over. No new island excited him more than rediscovering if he kissed her one way, she would touch him _that_ way. There were some territories that warranted revisiting, though he already knew them so well. Long after his map was filled in and the responsibilities of the chiefdom kept him grounded, he would still not be content with his knowledge of Astrid. As long as she was still his to explore, he was bound by his very nature to wander and to roam over her secrets, as if it was the first time he had ever touched her. He would not stop—_could_ _not_ stop. His _did_ have an insatiable wanderlust, after all.

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**Author's Note: *** Nøkken (plural)- the sirens/water spirits of Norse mythology. Malevolent nøkken were particularly dangerous to women and children, but men could be ensnared by their enticing melodies as well.


	11. Awake & Family

**Author's Note: **I'm utilizing two words in this chapter, both from two of my readers. I'll be taking "Awake" by DtothaROCK, and "Family" by Kuro kaze no aka kira. Normally, I give a little more notice than this, but um…surprise? :D I hope I do right by y'all!

Yes, I know I'm doing that two-word thingy again, but it's kind of working for me right now.

**Disclaimer: **Blah.

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Hiccup's father had once told him that nightmares were the product of a wounded soul, reflecting deeply rooted fears, sorrow, or guilt. While he supposed that was all true, there was one emotion his father had forgotten—regret. It was not often that Hiccup was tormented by bad dreams, but whenever he was, there seemed to be one, single recurring set of images that flashed in his mind. The only plausible explanation for it was that his soul was haunted by a single night he could barely remember—he had been just a baby, after all. The more he tried to piece the colors and sounds together into a coherent scene, the more they faded into the blackness. He could not make sense of the nightmare that occasionally disrupted his otherwise peaceful slumber, but he knew that it was not the product of any unresolved feelings his father had once suggested to him. The only emotion he could pinpoint as he awoke in a cold sweat, heart hammering away in a state of panic, was regret—for what exactly, he did not know. The death of his mother? That he had had never known her? That he had to lose her when he was just an infant, and powerless to do anything about it? He had regret for so many things related to the missing piece of his family. The only thing he was sure of was the stinging sense of loss that lingered in the air, threatening to smother him as the nightmare quickly retreated back into his subconscious.

He stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to drift back to sleep with no such luck. All traces of exhaustion had left him with the surge of adrenaline that accompanied nightmares. He was wide awake and in need of a distraction to keep him from going mad as the moon slowly began its descent. He thought about flying with Toothless, since little else provided such respite for his soul, but he heard the Night Fury's slow, deep breathing, indicating he was fast asleep. Hiccup had to admit that he was a bit envious.

He glanced over at Astrid, who was curled up beside him, framed by her golden hair which she had pulled loose from her braids. She looked so innocent while she slept, as if she was incapable of harming even the tiniest of flies, though that could not have been further from the truth. She drew the blankets even tighter around herself and he was thankful his restlessness had not awoken her, too. There was no reason for her to join him in his insomnia.

The worst part of his mind's disquiet was that it was difficult for him to do anything but reflect on his nightmare. He often resisted the urge to think about his mother, or the concept of family in general. It stirred up all kind of pain and raw emotions he did not want to bother with—but as he lie wide awake, in the silence of the early morning hours, there was not much to keep his mind from drifting in that direction, in spite of himself. He did not know why thoughts of his mother only brought him regret. What was there to regret regarding a woman he did not even know? How could he really miss someone he had no memory of?

Then again, he figured it was possible just to miss the very idea of her.

He could not mourn Valka for who she had been as a person, unlike his father. He could only mourn her for what she represented to him—the other half of his family. He knew all the ways in which he was like his father, but he did not have any sense of identity he could draw from his mother. It was an entire piece of himself that was gone—taken from him at the beginning of his life, never giving him the chance to know what a real family felt like. It took two souls to make another, and there was a void in his sense of self where his mother should have been. Family was such a defining part of life and identity on Berk, and integral to feeling as though one simply had a place to belong. Hiccup had never known a mother's love, and the concept of two parents under one roof was foreign to him—and yet, there was still a sense of loss. It was a longing for what he had never known, and for what could have been.

The thoughts were upsetting, only adding to the turmoil in his brain, serving to worsen his insomnia. While he was awake, he could do nothing else but think of his mother, continuing the vicious cycle of misery he was caught up in. It seemed so counterintuitive that thoughts of family only caused him distress, but he supposed that was only natural when one's concept of family was so broken.

Astrid sighed softly in her sleep and rolled over onto her back, kicking one leg out from underneath the covers. Hiccup smiled and brushed some loose strands of hair out of her face, thankful that he had least had her in his life. He did not have a mother to stand by him and encourage him, but Astrid had more than made up for it. She was his unwavering pillar of support, singing his praises louder than anyone else. She always had a kind word or a tender gesture when he needed it the most, and in that respect, she filled a void. In many ways, Astrid _was_ family to him. They loved one another, and protected each other. They had known each other their whole lives, and in that same sense, his entire tribe was one big extended family. The dragons had only multiplied their numbers and strengthened those bonds, and Hiccup could not imagine life without Toothless or Astrid. Still, they did not replace the family he had lost, but at that point, it was enough for him. He may have desired an unobtainable, unconditional love that a mother had for her son, but as long as he had Toothless and Astrid, he had everything that he _needed_ in them.

Perhaps he needed to look at things differently? Instead of focusing on the family he could not have, maybe it was time to think about the family in front of him—the one that began with Astrid. He could not breach the subject with her, since he was not yet ready to marry her, but one day, he could rediscover what a real family meant to him. Together, they would write their own definition of it, and maybe then he could reflect on the concept of family with nothing but deep satisfaction and a sense of completion.

He glanced out of his window and noticed the rosy glow of the first bands of sunlight as they peeked up over the horizon. The moon and the stars were still visible, but they were hastily retreating from the encroaching daylight. There was no effective remedy for his insomnia—nothing that would soothe his racing mind before Berk needed his attention.

Awake, he remained.

He tried to turn his mind to more pleasant thoughts, and it helped that Astrid was in his bed, giving him something else to focus on. He turned over on his side, and gently traced the contours of her face with his fingertips. She sighed softly but did not wake, snuggling deeper into the pillow with a faint smile on her face. He felt his sleeplessness was worth it for such moments. In the still and the quiet, it was almost as if everything else faded away. There was only Astrid.

All his hopes for the future began and ended with her.

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**Author's Note:** Another 3 for 3 weekly goal obtained! Woot, woot! These last few chapters have been really _hard_, y'all. I'm glad that they were still enjoyable because they hurt my brain. At times, I think I was being a little ambitious with the project, but the positive review lead me to believe I'm being too hard on myself, as usual. So, instead of whining about how much I think the last few chapters were substandard, I'm going to happily dive into this last chapter, and wrap these one-shots up with a pretty little bow on top.

Then I'm going to move right along into my next fic…because it's calling my name so loud, you guys.


	12. Weddings & Promises

**Author's Note:** Last chapter! Victory laaaaap!

Anyway, I am using "promises," which I had originally intended to use in this manner, but aadit24 also had suggested it, so kudos to you, dear reader! Brownies points for getting inside my head.

Midoriko-sama suggested "weddings," and while I was not planning on making this chapter a double-worded one…uh…meh? Again, both words seemed fitting, in this case. From the start, I wanted to use the two concepts together. Another kudos for reading my mind.

I hope I delivered!

**Disclaimer: **Here's where it would go, if anyone actually cared.

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Summer was coming to an end, and the sacred season of _Vetrnaetr_* was soon to be upon of Berk, again. In addition to the excitement of the Winter Nights festival, that particular time of year had the village abuzz for another reason. It was customary for many weddings to be scheduled around one of their holiest of holidays, as the young couples and their families hoped to receive divine blessings for the marriages. It was a time of year that brought with it much joy and frivolity, as wedding feasts would last for days—the celebration of one couple flowing directly into the celebration of another in an almost never-ending month of matrimonial bliss. Any wedding feast shorter than three days was considered poor taste; a dreadfully stingy affair.

Underlying all of the excitement wedding season however, were the tense negotiations between fathers as the terms of the _bruðkaup__* _were set for each couple. While the betrothed often looked forward to binding their lives together, their respective families saw marriage as a business deal, sealed with a legally binding contract. That was not to say either family involved was unhappy over the union of their clans, or that they attempted to marginalize the wedding in any way. A lot came with combining two households, and both sides often sought to be equally represented in the new family order.

Despite the serious atmosphere surrounding the legal aspect of Viking marriages, all parties usually walked away satisfied, and a young couple could enjoy their wedding celebration unburdened by feuding between their clans. The friendlier the families had been before the betrothal, the smoother negotiations typically went. Perhaps that was why the village was so perplexed over why Hiccup had not yet sat down with Astrid's father to propose a marriage contract for his daughter's hand? The Haddocks and the Hoffersons had always been on good terms, and the friendly rapport between them had only improved since Hiccup and Astrid had started dating. Logically, it followed that the two of them would be wed once they had come of age—but that rite of passage had come and gone for both of them. They were adults, both nineteen, and had been in a committed relationship for over a year. By traditional Viking standards of love and marriage, they should have been wed months ago, and Hiccup was getting tired of hearing about it. Whenever his father tried to bring up the subject, he pretended he was suddenly busy with something else of great importance to avoid it—even if it required him immediately walking out of his house after just stepping foot inside it.

"You would think after nearly a month of perpetual wedding feasts, we'd all be a little sick of them by now," he told Astrid, as they watched another newlywed couple perform a traditional wedding dance around the Great Hall.

He did not _hate_ weddings, or find them miserable in any way—but he was getting tired of the Great Hall being overrun with flowers and garlands, seemingly week after consecutive week.

"Well, don't sound so bitter or anything," Astrid said sarcastically, giving him a playful nudge.

"Sorry. I guess when it's your duty to marry it kind of takes all of the romance out of it," he replied.

Astrid gazed up at him quizzically and asked, "You don't want this for yourself?"

"I didn't say that. I suppose it's selfish of me, but I want it on my own terms, is all," he explained.

The current bride and groom appeared so happy and carefree, and he only assumed it was because the choice to wed had been theirs alone, and it had not been thrust upon them with any sense of immediacy.

"I don't think that's selfish," Astrid responded. "Who knows? Maybe your future bride is in no rush, either. Maybe she narrowly escaped some sort of horrible arranged marriage or something?"

"Yes. My future bride—whomever she happens to be…," he said teasingly and Astrid grinned at him.

The subject of marriage had seldom been breached between the two of them before, but in the recent weeks, when all anyone seemed to talk about was weddings, they had taken up teasing each other about the idea. There was such pressure on the both of them to enter into a marriage contract, that keeping a lighthearted and nonchalant attitude about Berk's expectations helped diffuse the tension.

He did not know why they were both so reluctant to discuss marriage when, for Hiccup, it was inevitable. He had a duty to his people to take a wife and produce the next heir to the tribe of Hairy Hooligans, sooner rather than later. It was not a possibility. It was a certainty—an inescapable fate that came with inheriting the chiefdom. They both knew it in the back of their minds, going into their relationship. There were only two possible outcomes to the situation— either he married Astrid or he married someone else. There was no third alternative, and the second option made him feel sick to his stomach. So, in all actuality, there was only one choice he could really make... Yet, he did not want to talk about it. Not even with Astrid.

The music suddenly took on a more lively tone, and soon couples of all ages and marital status joined the newlyweds in a more festive wedding dance. It was a fast-paced set of steps that had men and women, boys and girls, skipping and twirling one another around the Great Hall. Those not participating still clapped along to the music, cheering the dancers on. Hiccup and Astrid laughed as an excited Fishlegs dragged a very reluctant Ruffnut into the mass of dancing Vikings, but the female Thortson twin still went along with the frivolity in spite of herself. Hiccup only hoped, at his own wedding, he could put any lingering bitterness aside and enjoy himself as much as he did at just about anyone else's celebration.

"Milady?" he inquired, turning towards Astrid with his hand outstretched in invitation.

She glanced back at him skeptically.

"_You_ dance?"

"I manage."

"You're serious?" she replied.

"I promised I'd save you a dance," he said with a shrug. "I tend to keep my promises."

"I thought you were joking!"

He grinned and grasped her hand gently.

"You _hoped_ I was joking."

With an aggravated groan, Astrid allowed him to pull her along to join in the merriment. They had to wait for an opening in the crowd, but eventually they were able to cut in and find their own patch of floor. Hidden away amidst of all the dancing couples, who were oblivious to anything but one another, Hiccup felt an odd sense of privacy. For once, everyone seemed too preoccupied to pay them much attention. When it came to weddings on Berk, his people lived for the festive aspect, craving the song, dance, feast, and drink. Many years ago, as a child, he looked forward to the marriage season for that very same reason. Weddings were fun. They were lighthearted. In his youthful brain, there was nothing serious about the nature of marriage at all. As he had gotten older however, and the shadow of his own impending nuptials hovered over him, his understanding and appreciation of wedding celebrations had shifted.

The wedding feast was never as much for the bride and groom as it was for the rest of the village. The legal negotiations that took place beforehand were less about the bride and groom's needs and more about family compensation. The only component of a marriage that seemed to be completely focused on the betrothed couple was the wedding ceremony itself, and the vows to be exchanged between them. In Hiccup's mind, none of the rest of it really mattered—not the dowry or the bride-price, nor the celebration that followed. A marriage was a promise, before gods and men alike. It was a solemn vow to forsake all others and pledge loyalty and devotion to one's spouse for a lifetime. Such promises were sacred, and from the soul. Granted, they were only as binding as the love of the hearts that made them, but even such a promise made in insincerity was no less significant in weight or meaning—just shorter in life expectancy.

Hiccup had no qualms about vowing his everlasting love to Astrid. In fact, he did it on a regular basis through promises both spoken and not. When he told her he had always loved her, and always would, he meant it. Every time he took her into his bed and reassured her that she was the only woman he wanted—had _ever_ wanted, it was the truth. Every kiss and embrace was an unspoken pledge of unwavering love and adoration that did not need to be converted into words—at least, not yet. Not before they were both in agreement, and not before the subject of marriage no longer set them both on edge. There was an understanding between them that, made official or not, the commitment they had to one another was very real, marital status be damned. There was no hurry to include the rest of Berk in it.

"Don't look now, but our fathers are talking again," Astrid said as Hiccup spun her beneath one of his arms.

"They're probably determining your _bruðkaup_ as we speak," he replied, flatly.

She twirled to face him, and Hiccup placed a hand on her waist, drawing her closer to his body.

"I hope you can afford it," she teased. "As the only daughter of the Hofferson clan, I suspect I'll come with a hefty price."

"Well, maybe you father can discount the _morgengifu_* a little? It's not like we haven't already—ow!"

Astrid had 'accidentally' stomped on his right foot.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked brightly.

"What was what?" Hiccup replied, feigning ignorance.

Astrid just rolled her eyes as they kept on dancing, dodging the other couples skipping jovially along to the music.

"Perhaps I can persuade my dad to go easy on you—if you agree to throw in Toothless—"

"You are _not_ getting Toothless."

"But, Hiccup—"

"No."

"I only meant that—"

"I don't care."

"But if you'd just consider it—"

"Not a chance."

They both laughed and held each other tightly as the lively music faded and the wedding dance came to an end. Such was the manner in which they spoke about marriage—always teasing, never serious. Astrid did not really want Toothless any more than she wanted a legitimate conversation about an engagement between Hiccup and herself, but they still enjoyed making a joke out of it. It was not that they mocked the idea of marriage—only everyone else's expectations for them regarding the subject. They had their own plans and their own sense of time. They had made their promises to one another already, and in in that respect, the most meaningful aspect of a marriage had already occurred; what was left but the superfluous pageantry? All that remained was a ceremonial display that was more for the benefit and peace of mind for everyone else. It was not Berk's business when and how the two of them were wed. What did traditions and rituals really add to a marriage anyway? A wedding, no matter how beautiful or extravagant, did not make the marriage. It all came back to the promises—the vows exchanged. Hiccup did not claim to be an expert on marriage, but all legalities aside, he would wager the two of them were off to a very good start, already.

"Astrid, you know I love you, right?" he asked, taking her hands in his.

"Of course. You tell me every day—when you're actually _here_, that is," she answered, grinning.

"And you know that you mean everything to me, don't you? I will spend my whole life trying to make you see that."

"Why, Hiccup…if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to propose a marriage contract to me."

"Now, what would give you a crazy idea like that?" he retorted, playfully quirking an eyebrow.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, and in their kiss was every wish and desire the two of them shared for their future together.

"You just make a lot of a promises…," she whispered against his lips.

"I don't make promises I can't keep, Astrid," he replied softly.

"And you tend to keep the promises you do make?"

"Always."

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**Author's Note**: Woohoo! Done! I hope this was a warm and fuzzy note to go out on—because copious fluff, that's why. I thought I'd choose a more narrative style for this last one-shot as a segway into my next fic that should be published on this site in the next few days. This one-shot project was fun for me, and a little challenging at times. I'm glad so many people were entertained by it.

***Do me a _huge_ favor—leave a review, if you haven't already! Show me some love for giving y'all a dozen smluffy one-shots! Let me know what you thought. I'm curious, which one-shot was your favorite?***

Below are the definitions of the Norse terminology I used in this chapter:

_Bruðkaup__- "_bride-price." The bride-price consisted of three payments: from the groom would come the _mundr __(_ a payment to the father of the bride for control of the _mundium_, which was a Latin term for the right of protection and legal guardianship held by the bride's father, or other kinsman, until she was married) and _morgengifu __(_"morning-gift" paid directly to the bride as compensation for her sexual availability to her husband, _or_ for her virginity of she were a maiden), while the bride's family provided the _heiman fylgia __(_dowry_)__._

_Vetrnater- _or Winter Nights was a Norse winter festival that was initially celebrated in pre-Christian Scandinavia. It is said that Winter Nights is one of the three most important festivals. It is a festival that marks the end of summer, the start of the winter, and the beginning of a new year.


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